The Enemy Within
by Colby'sGirl19
Summary: When Don's boss, best friend and the godfather to his eldest son is found brutally murdered, Don vows to make the person(s) responsible pay; which is easier said than done as Don finds himself emerged in a world where everybody lies and no one can be trusted.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

 _*"Oh, I see we're off on yet another exciting area of criminology." – Dr. Larry Fleinhardt._

 _Season 1, episode 8: Identity Crisis*_

Upon entering the tiny café, Assistant Director Nick Callaghan grimaced with distaste as the overwhelming stench of oil and fat assaulted his sensitive nostrils and brought back repressed memories of greasy fry-ups and sour milkshakes. He couldn't remember the last time he had visited such an establishment but that wasn't surprising, he had only been a kid at the time and his childhood was not a place he liked to visit often…not because he had been abused or anything like that, but because it often brought back feelings of misplaced anger and regret.

Feeling annoyed for letting his mind wonder to such uncomfortable places, Nick flicked up the collar of his coat and shuffled angrily through the maze of mismatched tables to a dark corner in the back where he hoped to meet his contact unnoticed; an impossible feat considering there were so few customers.

"What can I get ya lovey?" A tired looking waitress asked kindly as she pulled a small notebook from the pocket of her stained apron and pulled a pencil from the back of her head where it was wedged in her ponytail.

Looking around the badly lit café, Nick thought about refusing to order, he would rather die than eat anything that came out of the small, slime covered kitchen that he had passed on his way to his table, but then thought better of it. Refusing to order would come across as suspicious and draw more attention than he was already getting from some of the other, less savoury, looking customers. So it was with a heavy heart and great trepidation that Nick forced his mouth to open and just about pushed the word "Coffee," past gritted teeth.

"Please," He added as an afterthought as he forced a small boyish smile on his face to placate the waitress, she really did look rundown and Nick wondered how many hours she had been working for. He knew from experience that beggars couldn't be choosers and an extra shift or two could make all the difference when you were poor and had a young boy to feed...

"Can I get ya anythin' else?" The waitress asked casually, breaking into Nick's troubled thoughts, as she pocketed her notepad and pencil and pulled out a damp cloth to wipe down the table, mistaking his downcast frown as a look of disgust, when really if he was disgusted with anything it was with himself and not the dirty table.

He couldn't help it though; looking at the waitress was like looking at his mother. The similarities were uncanny; they both had the same haggard expression and the same stained apron and Nick felt his stomach twist with remorse. Guilt wasn't an emotion Nick was used to feeling and the thought made him uncomfortable.

"No that's everything thank you," Nick assured her with a brief nod and a forced smile and was relieved when she eventually walked away.

Several hours and two coffees gingerly sipped later and Nick began to get a sinking feeling that he'd been stood up…that or he was in the wrong greasy spoon. Annoyed and frustrated, Nick stood up and pulled his wallet out. At least the coffee was cheap!

Throwing a couple of five dollar bills down on the table, Nick made his way back through the maze of mismatched tables to the exit where the waitress was sat on her break reading a newspaper and drinking coffee. Nick noted that the mug was special and different from the one's the customers were given; it appeared that not even the waitress trusted the café's crockery.

"Hav' a nice night honey," The waitress smiled as he passed, saluting him with her mug, which he could see now was inscribed 'World's best mum'. Nick didn't know if this was true or not but found that the sentiment had him reaching once more for his wallet only this time he pulled out a hundred dollar bill. It was the last of his cash; he was going to have to go to an ATM at some point.

"Thank you," Nick smiled as he held a hand out to shake hers and slipped her the tip, careful that the cook, and Nick assumed owner, didn't see before walking away leaving the waitress stunned.

"Thank you Benjamin!" The waitress called after him, referring to the portrait of Benjamin Franklin on the face of the bill. It was only then, as he pulled back the café door that Nick realised he had been so 'on edge' that hadn't even bothered to look at her name badge.

Sighing to himself as he hugged his thick woollen coat closer to his body for warmth, Nick started quickly along the block, trying to avoid the attention of the night workers across the street and their pimp in the alleyway next door.

Perhaps it was because he was paying too much attention to the people he could see that he forgot to worry about the ones he couldn't. Pulled back roughly by the scruff of his coat collar and thrown into the dark alley, Nick's attacker was upon him before he even had a chance to draw his gun.

Head pounding from the rough landing and chest winded from the person sitting on top of him, all Nick really could tell about his attacker was that he had bad breath and was quite a large man and then there was only pain as his attacker used the butt of a gun to repeatedly hit him over the face, splitting both his eyebrow and lip.

Groaning, Nick wasn't sure what he was saying and was sure it wasn't intelligible to the person on top of him either, all he knew was he had to get up, get away…unfortunately the man on top of him had his legs pinned as well as his arms and in Nick's dazed state he really didn't have much strength left in him to fight…

Laughing, that's what Nick remembered as the black choked his vision and the pounding in his head intensified, laughing and snorting and then finally the click of a gun cocking.

 **1**

 _*Charlie Eppes: "What do you think we should do now?"_

 _Don Eppes: "The same thing when I was in school and didn't know the answer – Fake it"._

 _Season 1, Episode 4: Prime Suspect*_

It had been a long hard day and the night was only getting longer for Special Agent In Charge, SAIC, Don Eppes. If the stack of files next to him was any indication, he wouldn't be leaving the office again anytime soon.

Flicking his gaze guiltily to his watch Don realises that the time was _a lot_ later than he had anticipated; there just never seemed to be enough hours in the day _or_ night anymore and the little dent he had made in his paperwork tonight would inevitably never be enough.

He wanted to go home. He felt it like a pull in his heart as his gaze drifts guiltily from his watch to the framed photo of his family that was proudly propped against the stack of files on his desk. It seemed appropriate to see the two balancing against each other because that was how it felt to Don at the moment.

His life in general was a balancing act as he and his wife Robin juggled high ranking positions in the FBI and Department of Justice and their three children at the same time. One had been hard enough but three! It was no wonder Don felt like he never had time to breathe let alone get everything he needed to done. Not that he would trade his family for anything. In that department he really was a lucky man.

Sighing heavily, Don grabs a hand full of files off of the top of the pile and stuffs them into his battered leather shoulder bag. There really was no reason he had to read them in his dark lonely office; he just found that there were generally less distractions at his desk than at home but right now a good distraction was something he desperately needed to save him from the mind numbing reports that awaited him on his desk and now in his bag.

"Scarlett? You're still here?" Don asks surprised as he leaves his office to find his secretary typing furiously away at her desk in the small antechamber outside his office. "I thought I told you to go home hours ago?"

"I was just sorting out your calendar for next week," She smiles slyly back as she stops typing and swivels around in her chair to give Don her full attention and full view of her cleavage in her tight pale pink dress. Either it was really cold in the small chamber or Scarlett wasn't wearing her bra anymore…

"Is there much left to do?" Don asks hesitantly as Scarlett crosses and uncrosses her long slender legs, before slowly crossing them again.

"All done now," She simpers huskily as Don quickly turns away and closes his office door behind him before pulling out his keys and locking it. "I don't suppose you fancy going for a quick drink…you know to unwind?" She smiles assuredly at Don as he turns around to regard her properly once more.

"As nice as that would be," Don coughs embarrassedly, his neck turning crimson as he blushes under the suggestive fluttering of her eyelashes. "My family are probably already worried and I'd hate to have them worry…ah…unnecessarily…"

"That's a shame," She pouts prettily stopping Don in his tracks as he attempts to edge away towards the exit. "I was really looking forward to a long hard pull from a stiff one." If Don _had_ been drinking, he would have just spat it out; he was so surprised by her comment that for a moment it was all he could do not to laugh at her cheek. She had to be at least twenty four, less than half his age!

"Really…" He replies more calmly than he's feeling as he watches Scarlett put on her green swede jacket and matching handbag. "If anyone is going to have a long hard pull from a stiff one it will be my wife and any further comment on the matter and we might need to rethink your future within this department. Understood?"

"Understood," She replies quietly. "I just thought..."

"Well you shouldn't have," Don replies firmly but not unkindly. "Look…it's late. How about I walk you to your car…"

"Thanks," She nods slowly as she and Don make their way over to the tiny lift across the large open plan room that housed the agents that Don, as SAIC, was in charge of managing. He was surprised to see that some were still at their desks, heads buried in their work. "Mr Eppes?" Scarlett asks shyly once they are both alone in the small lift.

"Yes?" Don replies hesitantly as he pushes for the ground floor and watches warily as the doors close, trapping them both alone together for the next few awkward minutes.

"I'm sorry about before…"

"Let's not mention it again."

"Ok," She whispers quietly, making Don turn to face her briefly. She looked pained, vulnerable…young and yet still…desirable with her long chocolate locks and pale skin wrapped tightly in pink…she looked like a sweet in a shiny wrapper tempting him from across the lift…turning quickly away Don thanks the lords as the lift doors ping open and he's finally able to put some real space between them.

"Where are you parked?" Don asks roughly as he holds open the front door to the main entrance and lobby to the FBI building in LA.

"Just over there," She points to the right, her hand gesturing at a car park that was blocked partially by the human sized statue of Lady Justice that had been erected when J Edgar Hoover had died back in 1972.

Don had never paid much attention to the statue before. It looked like every other statue of Lady Justice, scales in one hand, sword thrusting out in the other. Only this time Don _was_ paying attention to the statue as his eyes slowly adjusted to the dark and the cold wind sent a shiver scurrying up his spine. At least he thought it was the wind…and not the large pool of dark red blood that seemed to be dripping down the front of the statue, splashing past her feet and down the front steps of the FBI building.

"What the…?" Don asks shocked as he watches Scarlett's face turn and scrunch up as she spots the blood and lets out an ear piercing scream when both she and Don make their way around to the front of the statue to see a man stood, impaled on the bloody sword of justice.

"Is that…?" Scarlett cries as she points up at the statue and the body lifelessly propped up against it.

"N…Nick," Don stutters disbelievingly.

"Oh my God…oh my god," Scarlett repeats over and over to herself as she begins to freak out beside him, letting out a deafening sob of grief…only it sounded more like it was coming from him… _How odd,_ he thought disconnectedly as his gaze moved from the Assistant Director Nick Callaghan's bruised and cut face to the sword jutting out of a wide open wound in his chest. "DON!" Scarlett shakes his arm as she points to the statues left hand, more specifically to the scales.

 _Fuck,_ Don thinks loudly to himself… _just_ _holy fuck…_ because the scales that Scarlett's unsteady hand is waving erratically at are not empty…on one side is a gun, presumably Nick's…and in the other is a red lump that looks disgustingly like a human heart. "Get help." Don whispers quietly first then shouts it again as he grabs both of Scarlett's cheeks and pins her gaze with his. "Get help… _NOW!"_

Turning back to the statue and his friend, Don resists the temptation to pull his friend down from the statue's deadly embrace. But that was just it…there was no doubt in Don's mind that Nick was dead and he wasn't going to be the one who fucks up the crime scene and lets the killer slip away on a technicality…

How long he stood there gazing up at the body of his boss, his best friend…the godfather to his eldest son…Don didn't know. Probably not as long as it felt and it had felt like a lifetime for sure. It didn't matter though, he would have waited forever if he had needed too because whilst he might not have been there in time to save his friend he would be damned if he would leave him hanging there alone.

"Don?"

"Robin?" Don turns around surprised at the sound of his wife's soft voice. "Rob?" His voice cracks as she pulls him against her and lets him sob angrily against the soft skin where her neck meets her shoulder until his legs can hold him no longer and he falls to his knees.

"I know," She whispers several times, as she slowly kneels down next to him and cradles his shaking body against hers. "I know."


	2. Chapter 2

**2**

 _*"Alan Eppes_ _: You save all the dirty jobs for yourself._

 _Don Eppes_ _: I do what has to be done – it's not like I like doing the dirty work."_

 _Season 3, Episode 14: Take Out*_

 _*The Next Day*_

Whilst Robin had been to many crime scenes in the past and seen more photos of mangled, crushed and unrecognizable bodies than she could ever have wished to see, there was still something about the LA county Morgue that sent a shiver down her spine. Of course all the experience and all of the practice in the world could never have prepared her for this...it is different when it's someone that you know and love...

"I'm sorry," The medical examiner, Dr Claudia Gomez, whispers sympathetically but quite firmly, "I can't have a family member in there whilst I'm preforming an autopsy."

"I understand it's against procedures…" Robin nods understandingly as she looked back through the thick double doors into the autopsy room where Don was sat next to Nick's lifeless body, cradling his friend's hand in his and her heart pinched with sadness for him. "But _he is_ family and Don's not leaving Nick," She adds defensively as Claudia rubs at her temples frustrated. "He won't interfere with the autopsy and you will hardly know he's there. Look we're all on the same team here. We just want to know who did this and stop them."

"Which is why you both need to leave and let me get on with my job," Claudia replies reasonably. "I can give you a copy of my report once I'm finished."

"Don won't leave Nick," Robin repeats coldly as she rounds on Claudia, her heart bursting with sadness at the whole situation that had her arguing with a friend. "And I won't _let_ you chuck him out." _He needs this…_ she pleads silently as Claudia looks from the steely glint in Robin's eyes to the despair in Don's who looked like he was now talking to the deceased.

"You know I could call security and have you both removed," Claudia threatens half-heartedly as she watches Robin's face harden protectively. There was a reason that Robin was nicknamed the Ice Bitch in court, not many people thought she expressed enough emotion, whether she was arguing a case in court or smuggling her husband into his best friend's autopsy, she never expressed much emotion and some people mistook that for her not caring when that just wasn't the case, she was just better at hiding them than most.

Making a conscious effort to lower her defenses, Robin dropped her arms to her sides and casts her gaze low. Making herself vulnerable was never easy and went against her natural instinct to defend her family with the ferocity of a lioness but she could see now that a softer approach would better defuse the situation.

"It's a religious thing," Robin pauses for a moment to let Claudia take it in. "It's a Jewish funeral practice called Shmirah, it means guardianship. Basically a Shomer or guardian stays with the _deceased_ before burial. You should have seen Don after a night of sitting with his father…it almost destroyed him…but it was what he needed. Somehow the tradition gave him the strength to see it through. Don needs that strength now…I can't give him that… _but you…you can_ ," Robin explains sadly, letting the despair and love for her husband creep into her voice, practically choking her voice to the point where it cracked at the end and the tears that she had been holding back began to trip and skid silently down her soft cheeks.

It had been a long and grueling night and Don had refused to leave Nick's side for even a second, even after Robin had turned up and they had pulled Nick down from the sword. In fact it had taken the strength of a couple of FBI agents to keep Don back long enough to let them bag up Nick's body to bring it here to the morgue!

Whilst it had been quite unprecedented, Don had stubbornly refused to get out of the ME's van after he had helped them load Nick's body into the back, so they had just brought him along to the Morgue and had probably thought that would be the end of it. They didn't know her husband though because now he was refusing to leave the autopsy room and Claudia looked like she had finally had enough.

"Please…" Robin added when it looked like Claudia was opening her mouth to refuse.

" _Fine_!" Claudia let out a frustrated sigh in defeat. "But only if he stands to one side and doesn't say a word!"

"Not a word!" Robin quickly agrees and adds, "I will personally drag him from the room if he tries anything!"

Claudia grumbles something in reply, but Robin doesn't hear it as she follows Claudia back into the autopsy room and makes her way over to Don's side. Kneeling down she addresses Don on his level as she reaches out a hand to gently stroke his stubbled cheek. "Claudia has agreed to let you stay, so long as you stand in the corner and don't cause trouble." She explains softly as the corners of Don's lips flicker upwards in a brief smile.

"I knew you would sort it," Don states with a matter-of-fact tone as he takes her small hand in his large one and backs away from the table to let Claudia get to work.

"If I hear even so much as a peep!" Claudia warns gruffly as she pulls out a small notepad and Dictaphone from the right pocket of her white lab coat before tying her black hair back with an elastic band that she had used to hold the notepad and Dictaphone together.

"Not a word," Don agrees gravely from the back corner of the small lab as Claudia now removes the white lab coat, throws it over the back of her desk chair and begins the autopsy.

 _*Outside the FBI Building*_

"Look at them down there, bloody vultures," Special Agent Colby Granger groans disgustedly as he twists his head around his shoulders to try and work out some of the kinks in his tense shoulders and neck, it hadn't taken long for word of the discovery of the Ad's body to hit the news and now news anchors and reporters alike were crowding the police barrier desperately wedeling for a better scoop than the reporter next to them.

"Forget them and concentrate on working the scene, Don's going to want a full report when he gets back," Agent Liz Warner replies testily, it had been a long and stressful morning, not helped by the added pressure of studying the crime scene where their boss had been found savagely murdered hours before…

"Ok," Colby sighs as he turns his back on the mass of reporters to give the scene his critical gaze once more. "There is a lot of blood, but no arterial spray which suggests the killer removed the AD…Nick's heart somewhere else…the blood like the rest of the crime scene has been artfully staged."

"So we aren't looking at the primary crime scene…" Liz nods agreeingly as she tucks her long brown hair behind her ears, a habit she had never been able to break when agitated. For this reason she usually wore it up when working, she just hadn't had chance between getting the call and rushing over here. "We need to look at Nick's diary, speak to his secretary and see what she knows about his whereabouts this evening."

"Claudia put time of death between eight and ten pm," Colby replies quietly, thinking aloud as he crosses his muscled arms and narrows his gaze at the proud statue of Justice, jutting her bloodied sword forward proudly. "Don would want us to be thorough, check his calendar for the past month and see if there are any patterns to his behavior. No way this was random…the way the scene was staged…he was targeted and that means his path has to have crossed with his murder at some point."

"You know Charlie would have some formula or other that would cross reference his whole calendar for you and tell you the most likely suspects in minutes," Liz smiles faintly as she joins Colby in front of the statue.

The heart and gun had been collected into evidence by the CSI's earlier that night, all that remained were the blood stains… _which unlucky sole was going to get the responsibility of trying to work the blood from the stone?_ Colby wonders curiously before turning to address Liz directly, "Charlie is out…he doesn't want to be contacted."

"But surely this is a unique circumstance," Liz whispers conspiritably. "I mean its Nick we're talking about. Charlie would want to help!"

"It's hardly going to escape his notice," Colby gestures angrily at the reporters behind him. "If Charlie wants to help he'll come in. I won't force him."

"Fine," Liz replies placatingly as she holds her hands up in a gesture of surrender. "I'll call Nikki get her on the calendar immediately."

"Good, whilst she's at it have Nikki search his office, get her to look into any cases Nick might have been looking into, then I want you to check in with Suarez and the uni's, see what they've managed to find from canvasing the area," Colby nods stiffly, the whole situation had put him on edge but if he was truly honest, the mention of Charlie was what had gotten him all riled up.

"What are you going to do?" Liz asked worriedly as she reduces the gap between them to less than a few centimeters.

"I'm going to go to the morgue to see what Claudia can tell me about how Nick died." Colby replies uneasily as he resists the urge to tuck the hair that had come loose back behind her ear, his brief anger gone as his body battled with the unease of her body being so close to his.

"Do you think Don's still there?" Liz asked concernedly as Colby turns away and heads over to where his car was badly parked next to the police barricade, leaving the CSI's to finish up with the crime scene.

"You remember how he was when his Dad died…" Colby replies quietly, his gaze not quite reaching Liz's as they stop in front of Colby's truck.

"I don't think I could ever forget…" Liz shivers uncomfortably as she leans in toward Colby and whispers, "there are just some griefs that can't be spoken…"

"Well Nick was like a brother to Don…so yeah I think he's still there," Colby replies flatly as this time he resists the urge to pull her close and comfort her.

"Ok," She nods sadly, tucking her hair behind her ears once more. "I'll let you know if Suarez has anything…and Col…look after Don for me," Liz replies softly, her hand resting on his arm for the briefest of moments. This time it was Liz who was unable to meet Colby's intense gaze. Colby was aware of Don and Liz's past but he had thought it was just that. _Did Liz still harbor feelings for Don?_ Colby wondered sadly as he took a step back putting more space between them as he quickly unlocked the door and climbed into his truck, putting a solid barrier of steel between them.

"I'll do my best," He promises quickly as he puts the key in the ignition and the truck in gear. "I'm hoping he'll let me take a shift and go home to get some rest."

"Robin will persuade him," Liz nods stonily making Colby feel uncomfortable once more. There was nothing worse than liking someone who was clearly into someone else, it made him frustrated and made him feel like a fool, like he was some character in a Shakespeare play, his love life these days was a tragic comedy.

"If she doesn't, I will," Colby replies resolvedly as he waves goodbye and reverses away from the one building that had always felt safe to him, like a second home...it was tainted now, and Colby was only spurred on more to find the person who had taken that from him, as well as his boss, his mentor and his friend.

 _*Late that Afternoon *_

"Don? Honey?" Robin asks quietly as she pushes the door to the study open a crack and pokes her head through the gap. "My mother's here with the kids…did you get any sleep at all?" She adds sadly as she enters the room properly now and perches herself on the edge of the small footstall that accompanies the chair he was currently slouched in, nursing a half drunk glass of scotch in his large hands.

"Maybe…I don't know," Don yawns tiredly in reply as he pulls himself up straighter in the chair. "Do they know?"

"No, my mother drove over here with the radio off…obviously they know something is up because how late I dropped them off at their Gran's last night…and with us coming back so late from the morgue," She replies quietly with a small yawn of her own. She was just grateful Colby had come along when he had or they might have been there all day. There was an awkward moment in the middle when she had thought he might decide that it was all too much but she should have known he was too stubborn to admit it and leave.

"I guess we had better tell them then…" Don replies firmly, but his face looks anything but firm…in fact it looked about ready to crumble and for the first time since entering the room she realizes his face is puffy and swollen like he'd been crying.

"I can do it…" She rushes to assure him as she races him to the door whilst he's still getting up slowly from the padded chair and makes to move across the room to the small doorway where she is now waiting for him. He looks like he's aged ten years in ten hours and her heart pinches with guilt for sleeping in the couple hours between getting home from the morgue and calling her mother to come and drop the kids back.

"No," Don shakes his head resignedly as he opens the door and takes her soft hand in his rough one. "We should tell them together."

"So long as you're sure…" She hesitates; she really did want him there with her.

"I'm sure," He assures her with a faint smile as he places the glass of scotch down on a bookshelf and leads the way downstairs.

"Daddy!" Grace shouts excitedly as she rushes over to Don, arms raised high for a hug.

"Gracie!" He shouts back excitedly as he scoops her small body up in his broad embrace and squeezes her tight.

"You're crushing me!" She giggles excitedly as Don looks over her head at his two sons, Marc and Brandon, who are sat somberly at the dining room table next to Robin's mother. "Sorry baby," He whispers soothingly as he joins Robin and sits down at the head of the table, Gracie in his lap.

"What's going on?" Marc asks confused as he looks back and forth between his mother and father before settling back on his father's stubbled, tired and drawn face. "What's happened?" Eighteen years old and the eldest, Marc was also the most astute of Don's three children. He was the captain of the Ice Hockey team but was also maintaining a perfect GPA. Watching him as he grew up, Don couldn't have been prouder; Marc represented the best of both Don and his own brother Charlie.

"Something bad has happened to your uncle Nicky," Robin replies sadly as she takes the hand her mother extends to her across the polished table top.

"Is he ok?" Brandon asks quietly, two years younger than his brother Marc, Brandon couldn't have been more different. The S. were not a strong point for Brandon, who was failing in a lot of classes. He had briefly played baseball but had soon quit with no explanation. It wasn't that he was stupid or bad at baseball, he was just acting out, Don just had to work out why and fix it before his son missed out on the chance to go to college. Hell he just had to figure out why before his son got kicked out of school! To say he was often getting into trouble would be an understatement; Don just hoped that the tutor they had hired could do something to help because at the moment he was at a loss for how to help his son.

"I'm afraid he's passed away," Don explains sadly as he watches the range of emotion's flitting though his children's eyes, shock, pain, sadness, anger and, in Gracie's case, confusion.

"Is he coming back?" She whispers quietly next to his ear, he could feel her small body shaking in his arms.

"No baby," He replies sadly as he holds her firmly in his arms and strokes the back of her head. "Do you remember what we talked about? About people dying?"

"Their bodies stop working," She nods miserably as the others cast their gazes low, lost in their own thoughts and memories of their uncle Nicky.

"That's right honey," Robin smiles weakly at their five year old daughter as she struggles to process the news.

"Will I get to say goodbye to him?" She frowns sadly as Don's eyes fill with more tears. He didn't know how, he thought he'd cried them all away by now, more just didn't seem possible.

"Yes," He replies quietly and forces a quick smile. "At his funeral we will all get to say goodbye." The last was spoken more to Marc and Brandon who looked about ready to cry themselves.

"Are you going to die too?" Grace whispers unhappily as she wraps her arms around his neck and holds on for dear life.

"One day," He answers honestly, "But not for a long time hopefully!" He adds quickly to reassure her. "Right now you're stuck with me."

"What about uncle Charlie?" She asks confused again, her face scrunched up as she lets go of his neck and settles her head back against his strong chest. "Is he dead?"

"No baby, why would you think that?" Its Don's turn to be confused as he gently rocks her in his arms.

"Because he went away and hasn't come back," She replies quietly, her voice a little muffled by his sweater.

"Oh baby," He replies choked, not sure how to respond. "Uncle Charlie is alive…he's just very busy with work and your cousin Dylan."

"Can he come to uncle Nicky's funeral?"

"Of course he can and he most likely will," Don replies hesitantly, not sure how that made him feel. On the one hand hopeful…he really did want to see his brother again…but there was fear there too. They had been estranged now for so long…he wouldn't know what to say.

"Is it alright if I go to my room now?" Marc asks suddenly, breaking the tense silence that had fallen over the small kitchen.

"Of course honey," Robin nods as Marc gets up and gives his Grandmother a long, firm hug before fleeing the room, his brother Brandon not far behind.

Watching their retreating backs Don thought of his own relationship with his brother, he couldn't let that happen to Marc and Bandon…he could already see them drifting apart with all of Marc's talk of college. But like most things in his life right now, he didn't know how to fix it.

"I'll be in the study," Don tells Robin as he stands up and when Gracie refuses to be put down he just takes her with him.

Snuggled together in the large padded armchair, passed out from exhaustion, is where Robin finds them both many hours later.


	3. Chapter 3

**3**

 _*"Colby Granger_ _: You can't just keep going around telling everybody you're fine._

 _Charlie Eppes_ _: Well, obviously, I'm not fine._

 _Colby Granger_ _: That's why you got to do something about it. It doesn't matter how scared you were. It doesn't matter if you wet your pants, man. There's nobody out here who's gonna hear it."_

 _Season 4, Episode 11: Breaking Point*_

 _*The Next Day*_

Leaning back against the table's edge, Professor Charles Eppes stares intently at the chalkboard in front of him and frowns. It was no use; he just couldn't concentrate on the problem in front of him he was too tired. Probably because he hadn't slept properly in days and was as far away from solving the equation today as he had been when he had set out to tackle the problem three days ago. He was a professor of Applied Mathematics at CalSci for Christ's sake. It wasn't like he was trying to solve P vs NP again…it really shouldn't be this hard.

Sighing with frustration, Charlie leans forward and drops the chalk back into the board's dusty holder and grabs his three day old warm beer from the table next to him. Without thinking about it, as his eyes sweep over the problem in front of him once more, he takes a large swig of beer and winces at the stale bitter taste.

"Charles, you look like someone just stole your chalk," Dr. Larry Fleinhardt teases lightly as he walks into the large dining room and spies Charlie looking into his half empty bottle like the answer might be written on the bottom.

"Larry," Charlie looks up sharply as he puts a hand against his racing heart. "When did you get here? I thought you were in New York at that Physics conference! You gave me a fright!"

"That ended yesterday," Larry smiles weakly, though it doesn't reach his eyes as he takes a seat at the long table and crosses his fingers in his lap. "I was going to stay an extra few days to talk at a couple lectures at the University, but I took the first flight home the second I heard the news."

"What news?" Charlie asks distractedly as he rubs at the light dusting of stubble covering his jaw and neck. _Maybe if he_ _moved the end bit to the start and tried stitching the rest in around it…_

"About Nick…" Larry replies confused as he looks from Charlie to the Chalkboard and back again. It took him a moment to realize it but Charlie hadn't moved or changed his clothes in three days. Looking at the empties on the table and the odd sprinkling of empty wrappers, it looked like Charlie had been surviving on beer and Chinese takeout. "Haven't you seen the news?"

"I've been busy," Charlie gestures irritably at the chalkboard as he finally turns now to give Larry his full attention. "Wait…I'm confused…it's only Friday…what are you doing back so soon?" Charlie asks as he checks his watch to make sure it really was Friday, the week had kind of merged together in his memory. "Did Dylan let you in?"

"Yes, Dylan is out shooting hoops on the drive way," Larry responds delicately as he eyes Charlie wearily, he really hadn't expected to be the one to break the news… "As for New York…I came back as soon as I heard the news about Nick…"

"What about him?" Charlie asks confusedly as he crosses his arms and stares his old teacher and mentor down. Larry was skating around something and Charlie didn't have the patience to wait for him to Fleinhardt his way around it. "What's happened?" He adds quietly but firmly when Larry fails to answer the question and is unable to meet his gaze.

"Maybe you should turn the TV on…" Larry finally responds helplessly as his shoulders slump and his gaze looks longingly into the other room.

"Alright…" Charlie agrees reluctantly as he makes his way through to the living room and grabs the remote to switch the TV on. "Which channel?"

"Any…doesn't really matter…" Larry replies quietly as he moves up behind Charlie like a sullen shadow. "I think they are playing it on all the channels…" And sure enough as Charlie switched from channel to channel the same event seemed to be capturing the attention of every station. The only thing that did change was the reporter and bright red graphic that shouted 'BREAKING NEWS: FBI ASSISTANT DIRECTOR NICK CALAGHAN FOUND MURDERED' along the bottom of his TV screen.

"Nick's…dead?" Charlie asks in confusion as anger and pain fight their way through his conflicted gaze. "I…I don't believe it…" He whispers quietly as he suddenly loses the ability to stand and staggers backwards into his dad's old armchair as an image of Don fills the small screen. "When…how?"

"He was found Wednesday night…" Larry replies weakly as he grabs the remote and turns up the sound till Don's rough voice fills the large room.

"It is with great sadness and a heavy heart that I can now confirm to you all that the body found here, on these very steps Wednesday night, was that of Assistant Director Nick Callaghan…his family has been notified and the investigation is ongoing. No further details can be given at this time."

"Can't you tell us anything more?" An eager young reporter pipes up from the crowd as another round of flashes fire in Don's direction as he turns away from the small podium that had been erected for the press conference only. "How are you dealing with this personal tragedy?"

Together Charlie and Larry lean in intently as the pair watch with avid fascination at the grief that flickers behind Don's expressionless face. For the longest moment, it looks like Don might ignore the question and walk away; instead he turns back towards the crowd of reporters and leans in close to the microphone so that his quite but firm voice could be heard clearly by everyone. "Nick was a decent boss, an honorable man and family to all who knew him…he was a brother to me, an uncle to my children…his death is a great blow to those who knew him and to this city, that he worked so hard to clean up and loved with a passion. His death will not go unpunished-"

"Thank you Don for you spirited words," An elderly man cuts across Don as he clamps a gnarled hand down on Don's shoulder. "Assistant Director Callaghan was certainly an inspiration and as demonstrated here by SAIC Eppes, inspired great loyalty and respect in his men. Now as mentioned earlier no further details can be given at this time as it is an active investigation but I can promise that we shall be dedicating full resources in the hopes to bring about a swift conclusion…"

"Poor Don," Larry whispers sadly as Charlie switches the TV off as the camera man follows Don's despondent form as he walks away from the press conference and walks inside the FBI building. No doubt the Director would have words when he finished talking and realized that Don didn't take his place back with the others. "Charlie?"

"What? Charlie asks more aggressively than he intended and hates himself for making his oldest and closest friend flinch. "What?" He asks again, softer this time.

"He needs you."

"He's been coping well enough for the past _two years_ ," Charlie states quietly, not entirely able to keep the hurt from his voice.

"This is different, you know it's different."

"Why?" Charlie laughs sarcastically. "Because the man my brother thought of as more of a brother than me died?"

"Charles, Charles, Charles," Larry sighs sadly. "What happened with your father wasn't Don's fault…it wasn't Nick's fault. You need to stop blaming them…and you need to stop blaming yourself."

"Look, even if I wanted to help, and I don't! I'm too busy with my work…" Charlie gestures irritably at the equation that has eluded him for the past three days.

Getting up and grabbing the chalk from its holder Larry begins scribbling on the large chalkboard as Charlie sits back against the dining room table and folds his arms defiantly.

"There," Larry states as he steps back and lets Charlie see the answer to his equation. "Now your schedule has cleared up, go and take a shower, change and get yourself to the FBI building."

"What if…what if he doesn't want me there?" Charlie asks vulnerably as Larry places a comforting hand on his old mentee's shoulder.

"I can't answer that for you," Larry looks genuinely regretful as he considers his next words carefully. "He may…he may not…what he _wants_ isn't really what matters. What matters is that he _needs_ you there as much as you need to be there. Charles, you and Don are two sides to the same coin, different but closely related features of one idea."

"You know dad used to say that a lot…"

"What?"

"That we were two sides of the same coin…I've just been so…angry," Charlie replies softly, his body hunched over defeatedly.

"I know," Larry sighs wistfully as he takes Charlie's hand in his and drops the chalk into his open palm. "It's time to let go of that anger and make peace with it or continue to embrace it the way you have for the last two years till there's nothing left and it defines you…just know that the latter is a very lonely path to choose."

*Back at FBI Headquarters*

Sitting alone in the dark gloom of his large office, Don looks down sadly at the reports Colby had brought him earlier that morning. One was of Claudia's initial autopsy report, the CSI's primary crime scene report and the other was an update from Colby about the team's findings and next move.

He knew he should be reading them all thoroughly so as to stay abreast of the investigation and to offer his own insights into what they should do or look at next…he just couldn't get his brain to focus on the files in front of him and not on the million and one things that would be expected of him in the coming days.

He knew he didn't have to make those decisions now, or alone he just preferred it that way, so when there is a disrupting knock at the door, Don is half grateful and half annoyed at the interruption.

"Come in," He shouts gruffly at the door and is surprised to see Colby, Robin and Gracie rather than his secretary. "What are you two doing here?" He asks Robin confusedly as Gracie runs across the room and launches herself at Don's lap. "Hey, sweetie," He smiles sadly as he holds her close in his arms and kisses the top of her head.

"I saw the press conference," Robin replies hesitantly, her eyes flicking briefly at Colby for a moment. "We need to talk…alone."

"Can't it wait?"

"No."

"Col…could you take Gracie for a few minutes?" Don sighs, as he lets go of Gracie, who is now wriggling to get off his lap.

"Of course," Colby grins as he takes Gracie's small hand in his and leads her back outside.

"What's up?" Don asks a little curiously now as Robin moves over to the chairs opposite Don's desk and sits down. "What's that?" He adds when Robin doesn't reply but opens her small briefcase instead, pulling out a thick file.

"I…I don't really know how to say this…it is…was Nick's. He gave it to me before he…before he died," Robin swallows hard as she remembers the night Nick came to her downtown office and plonked the file down on the deposition she was in the middle of reading. _"Here's a dollar,"_ He had told her at the time. _"You're now my lawyer and this conversation is privileged…even from Don."_

"Nick's?" Don shakes his head confused. "I don't understand…why do you have it?"

"Because he came to me a couple weeks ago and told me to hold on to it for him."

"What is it?"

"I don't know," Robin sighs sadly, as her fingers drum guiltily on the top of the stiff file. The knowledge of its existence had been wearing thin on her conscience and she was happy to finally be off loading it. "Nick told me to hide it, to keep its existence quiet and to not look inside."

"Why are you showing it to me now then?"

"Because Nick specifically asked that if anything should happen to him…that I should give it to you," Looking down at the folder in her tense grip Robin sighed before finally handing it over.

"Nick knew he was in trouble so he gave you this file…its importance must be…huge…" Don replied stiltedly as he took the file in his shaking hands before placing it down on top of the reports Colby had given him earlier. "Did you know? That he was in trouble?"

"I suspected…"

"And you didn't warn me?" Don asks harshly as he gives her an accusatory glance as now _his_ fingers drum nervously on top of the file.

"He paid me to be his lawyer…you know I couldn't say anything even if I had wanted to!"

"And you didn't want to, is that what you're saying?"

"No! Now you're just putting words into my mouth!" Robin protests loudly as she stands up abruptly and moves away to the large window and looks out at the crowd of news vans and reporters still guarding the front of the FBI building, probably still reporting about the press conference.

"Then why won't you look at me?" Don asks quietly as he stands up and moves around his desk so that he and Robin's back are only separated by a mere few centimeters.

"Because your right ok?" She shouts angrily as she spins around and is surprised and discomforted to see him standing so close. "You saw what happened to Nick," She whispers now as her eyes glisten with tears. "What if you had gotten yourself involved and it was you we found out there instead? I couldn't cope with loosing you!"

"Shhh, it's ok," Don whispers sadly as he pulls her into his arms and brushes her tears away with his thumbs. "I'm going to be careful with whatever information is in that file and I'm not going anywhere anytime soon! Your stuck with me ok?"

"Ok," She nods sadly as he kisses her passionately whilst pushing her backwards against the cold window.

"What's that noise?" She asks confused as Don lifts his head and looks toward the door disorientated.

"I don't know," He replies curiously as he takes her hand in his and leads Robin out of his office to the large open plan room of cubicles where his agents worked.

"Looks like it's coming from the bull pen," Robin whispers intrigued, her previous tears forgotten as Don leads her over to the bull pen and begins fighting his way through the sea of agents.

"What's going on?" Don asks as he moves closer to the center of the room until he can see the cause of the commotion. "Charlie?" Hearing their bosses' stunned accusatory tone, the other agents slowly melt backwards until there is a clear path of empty space between Don and his brother, even Gracie stops bouncing around her uncle to look worriedly over at her Dad.

"Don," Charlie nods nervously in greeting as he turns to face Don, who is steadily closing the gap between them. "I've come to help…if you'll have me?"

Don didn't know if it was just him but the room seemed to hold a collective breath waiting for his reply…but what to say? This was the first he had seen his brother in two years and he wasn't sure there was anything he could say to sum up the feeling swelling in his chest at that moment. So instead he closed the distance between them completely and pulled his younger brother into a tight bear hug. "Thank you," Was about all he could choke out as he felt his brother's arms hesitantly embrace him back.


	4. Chapter 4

**4**

 _ ***"**_ _Don Eppes_ _: I want you to know I don't take for granted what you do._

 _Charlie Eppes_ _: I never thought you did."_

 _Season 1, Episode 6: Sabotage*_

Looking down at the sheet in front of him, Charlie squints hard and tilts his head to the side, but it's no good. He was just too tired from lack of sleep and then the pressure to come up with the winning equation that would point to Nick's killer to make any sense of the numbers in front of him now.

Anger and irritation churning in his gut, Charlie swallows hard and feels the familiar thirst at the back of his throat that only a cool beer could sate. He was hardly going to find one in the FBI canteen though! There would however be hot bitter coffee that tasted like ass…strangely though; Charlie had missed that coffee a lot in the past two years…

Mind made up, Charlie abandons the challenge that Nick's diary was posing, who knew the AD made that many appointments in one day let alone one week, and made his way out of the bull pen to the small canteen that was conveniently close by. "Don!" He says surprised, as he finds Don alone in the canteen pouring himself a cup of coffee, a burgundy file propped up on the counter next to him.

"Charlie," His brother acknowledges his presence with a small sad smile, until he traces the line of Charlie's vision to the thick file next to him and his face darkens as he flips the file shut and places his cup of coffee on top. "Coffee?" He adds as he lifts the pot up once more and pulls another mug down from the rack in front of him.

"Thanks," Charlie accepts gratefully as he enters the small canteen and takes a seat at the round table closest to Don. Unsure of what to say next he takes the coffee once poured and takes a small sip. It tasted like crap and Charlie couldn't help the broad smile that now split his boyish face in two.

"I've never seen the coffee here have that effect before!" Don laughs surprised as he picks up both his coffee and the file and joins Charlie at his table.

"I actually missed it," Charlie whispers conspiritably as he jokingly looks about him to make sure no one else hears the small confession. Instead of laughing though, Don just looks thoughtful.

"Is that all you've missed?" Don asks quietly, his gaze cast low as his full lips spread into a grim line.

"I've missed the work," Charlie adds reluctantly, refusing to give Don what he wanted to hear. "I miss the thrill of the chase and the satisfaction of finishing a case."

"What about your family?"

"Don," Charlie growls warningly as he feels the embers of anger he had managed to subdue earlier start to burn anew.

"Did you know that Gracie actually asked if you were dead when I told her about Nick?" Don states quietly, ignoring his brothers barely concealed resentment.

"You want to know if I miss my family?" Charlie asks bitterly, a sarcastic laugh bursting out from between his grimly set lips. "I miss my family every day! I miss dad… _every day_! I miss my wife… _every day_! Do you know what it's like living in that house? And seeing reminders of them everywhere?"

"I'm sorry ok! How many times do I have to say it before you will forgive me? I feel the weight of Dad's death _every day_ and it's choking me Charlie…I'm suffocating under the weight of it." Don's face contorts between grief and pity.

Pity for Don that Charlie felt none for his brother, "I don't know what you want me to say," He sighs bitterly as he rubs at his pounding temples.

"I guess what I really want to know is why did you come back? If nothing has changed…why are you here?"

"Out of some kind of miss placed loyalty to Nick I guess," Charlie replies harshly, the lie burning the back of his throat as much as his need for a beer.

"That's it? That's the only reason?" Don presses but Charlie refuses to show his brother the turmoil going on in his gut. As much as he hated it there was a part of him that yearned to forgive his brother, to go back to how it had been before…before their lives had changed forever...unfortunately for Don it wasn't a big enough part. Charlie had lost everything that day...

Seeing his words are having no effect on his younger brother Don gives up and taking his coffee and file over to the open doorway hesitates as he looks back for a minute. "I know your forgiveness is too much to ask for…I know it's wrong of me to even expect it…his death is the burden I must bear for being reckless…"

"And arrogant."

"And arrogant," Don accepts sadly. "But Amita leaving you and Dylan…that's your burden to bear. I won't shoulder responsibility for that as well."

"No…I know that was all me," Charlie looks down bitterly at his coffee. He hadn't intended to have this argument with Don when he'd come…hell they were only rehashing previous fights anyway. When Don had hugged him and said thank you…Charlie had thought that maybe it was possible to go back…to forgive Don…he had also lost a brother the day his father died… but _damn it!_ It was all just too complicated and irrelevant because Charlie wasn't even sure he had any forgiveness left to give.

"You're angry; I get that but _you_ left Charlie. You just left, and now you don't get to be pissed anymore. You miss the coffee? You miss the work? You're the one who decided to quit. It was all too much for you? What about for me? Dad was dead and I needed my _brother_. Now Nick is dead! They chopped him open and they displayed him like a…like a…" Don held back a strangled sob. "I just want to know if you plan on sticking around this time. Cause if you're only here because some sense of misplaced loyalty and then you plan to leave again…I'd rather you just left now…we can pretend you never came and go back to not talking…"

"I don't want that…" Charlie frowns frustrated as Don turns to face him properly and waits patiently for Charlie to continue. "I've missed you ok!" Charlie shouts angrily as a small triumphant smile flickers at the corner of Don's lips.

"I've missed you too Chuck," Don whispers affectionately.

"Don't push it," Charlie holds up a hand to stop Don before he can say anything else. "I can't just pretend that it doesn't hurt to look at you," He explains honestly, "But I also won't pretend that I haven't missed you either. I just need time."

"But we can try? And see if we can make this work again?" Don asks hopefully, a sad, eager and imploring look on his face.

"Yes," Charlie nods and strangely feels a little lighter for the decision. "Why don't we start with seeing if I can't help you with that?" Charlie offers as he points at the thick file under Don's arm.

"This?" Don looks down at the file like it was a grenade that might self-implode any moment. "This is just an old case file, nothing to worry about."

"Ok," Charlie forces a smile on his face. Don was lying, he didn't know why but Charlie would let it slide…for now.

"In fact I should really go and put it away…I'll see you here tomorrow?" Don asks tentatively and Charlie nods to say that he will. "Good…well…see you tomorrow then," And with that Don leaves.

Taking a large sip of his coffee Charlie ponders his and Don's little exchange before deciding to give up on the coffee and the diary for today in favor of the nearest bar. His and Don's little 'Chat' had left him quite thirsty for something a lot stronger than just bitter coffee.

*Later That Night*

Biting her lip in an attempt to hold back a loud aching scream of frustration, Sally reaches furiously inside her grubby apron for the cleanest rag she can find before bending down to attend to the spilt coffee that was currently staining the table top and booth seat. _Why me?_ She asks in silent fury as she notices that the spilt coffee was now dripping down the edge of the seat onto the greasy floor.

 _Ah, like anyone cares,_ she tells herself as she only mops it up half-heartedly. It wasn't like in her last job where the area manager used to go around photographing the slightest speck of dust to belittle her with later. She was well rid of that bitch now, thank God!

Saying that…her new manager could have done with caring a little more, the small diner was a dive but then that was why they got any business at all. It was the perfect spot to go for a more… _private…_ conversation. Ones like the one that had led to Sally getting down on her old crooked knees to clean up split coffee.

Apparently the woman who had thrown the coffee hadn't taken too kindly to being dumped because he was never going to leave his wife. Sally could have told her that; spared the woman some pain. Never get involved with a married guy. She had done that and that was how she had ended up pregnant and alone at twenty.

Grunting in pain as her knees began to stiffen up; Sally notices a crumpled newspaper in the corner of the booth seat, narrowly avoiding the still spreading coffee stain and decides to save it for her break later rather than using it as fodder to help stop the spread of coffee.

Lifting it up quickly, Sally is startled to see Benjamin's handsome boyish face grinning back at her. His name wasn't really Benjamin that was just what she had called him because of the hundred dollar tip he had given her only a couple nights before. She had used that tip to pay off the last of this month's rent. Her creepy landlord's face had been so surprised! She would have laughed had she not wanted to get out of his apartment as fast as humanly possible.

"Rickey!" She shouts to the cook at the back of the diner although 'cook' was a generous term for what he was as no one ever seemed to order any food. That was possibly because of the obvious sanitary concerns every diner must have as they open the door to a thick smog of grease and dirt. Only marginally cleaner than the alley out back, the small kitchenette was only good for coffee and even that tasted like crap.

"Rickey!" She shouts again as she forgets about the spilt coffee and rushes over to where Rickey has kicked his feet up and was snoring away loudly in the small office that also doubled as a staff room.

"What you screaming about woman?" Her manager, who was sat as his desk opposite Rickey, looks up angrily from his phone; she was clearly imposing on his candy crush time.

"This," She stabs her finger at the paper as Louis scrutinizes the front page.

"That?" He asks incredulously. "That's old news."

"Old news?" She splutters disbelievingly at Lou's look of scorn before he goes back to swiping furiously at his phone. "He was only in here the other night…" But Lou doesn't hear her mumble the last bit as she stumbles away and moves over to one of the back booths where she begins to scour the paper word for word for answers.

"So your name is Nick Callaghan," She whispers to herself as she finishes with the front page and moves on to the double page spread inside. "The assistant director of the FBI!" She says a little too loudly as a couple of shifty looking diners glare angrily in her direction. Flashing them a quick smile, Sally continues to scour the article in front of her…

 _What would the assistant director of the FBI doing in a dive like this?_ She wonders silently to herself as she scans the small diner's rough clientele. He had stuck out like a sore thumb that night and he had definitely been waiting for someone…someone that hadn't shown up. _Did that person kill him? Was I the last person to see him alive aside from the killer?_ She wonders nervously as she gets up from where she was sitting and moves back over to the booth with the now dry coffee stain.

 _What if she was the last person to see him alive? The diner wasn't the sort of place you chose to come if you could help it…who was he supposed to be meeting…_

"Try this," Rickey, back from his break now, smiles kindly as he holds out a damp rag for her to take, it was only then that she realized that her hands were shaking. Rickey must have noticed too as he asks, "You alright?" Before gently steering her to the closest chair and pushing her into it. "Let me get you a coffee," He offers kindly as he leaves her there to go make the coffee and brings it back in her mug…the one her son Harvey had made her for mother's day when he was ten. "Bien?" He asks once she had taken a couple tentative sips of the coffee and smiles when she recognizes the taste of Lou's own personal brand of coffee, not to be used for customers or staff…well anyone aside from Lou and his shady friends.

"Yes, thank you!" She smiles back fondly as Rickey takes a seat opposite and just stares at her till she elaborates. "I was just reading about the assistant director Nick Callaghan," She replies earnestly but decides to leave out the part about him visiting the diner only two nights previously.

"Sí, muy malo! Not good at all!" Rickey nods vigorously as he scratches lazily at the thick layer of stubble covering the underside of his thick jaw and chin. "I heard they found pieces of 'im scattered around t' car park."

"Really?" She asks horrified as she looks thoughtfully out the large window at the front of the shop…well at the large window…the thing was too filthy to actually look out of. "Do they have any leads?"

"Hard to tell, fuckin' Federales," Rickey replies disgustedly as he spits on the floor next to him.

"Ricardo!" She frowns disapprovingly, using his full name to berate him.

"Triste…sorry Sal, back in Mexico the Federales…well least said bout them t' better. If they have leads they not tellin' us."

"Oi!" Lou shouts angrily making both Rickey and Sally jump in unison. "Get back to work! I don't pay you to sit around gossiping!"

"Pendejo," Rickey mutters under his breath as he gets up and moves back to the sanctuary of the small kitchenette, whilst Sally goes back to cleaning up the coffee stain with the damp cloth Rickey had given her earlier.

 _What if they have no leads?_ She still found herself wondering later that night when her shift finally ends and she begins to make the long walk to her bus stop to take her home to the valley.

 _What if the murder goes free?_

Face flushed with indecision she stops and looks about her as memories of Benjamin's…Nick's handsome face smiles politely at her as he slips her the hundred dollar bill…he'd done her a massive favour that night…it was only right that she now did the same for him!

Turning around Sally makes her way back past the diner to the nearest train station. The FBI building was in downtown LA…there probably wouldn't be anyone there this late…but she was willing to wait until there was, even if that meant waiting all night. She owed Nick that much!

Mind made up, and feeling better for the decision, Sally sits and waits patiently in the quiet darkness of the station's open platform. It had already been a long night and Sally was ridiculously tired…which was probably why she ended up falling asleep on the hard bench, head resting comfortably, nestled securely in the crook of her folded arms.

 _*Meanwhile, Elsewhere*_

Turning off the ignition to his Black Chevy Suburban, Don lets the darkness envelope him like a thick blanket until he finally feels safe and secure enough to reach over and grab out the contents of the small Walmart bag that he had unceremoniously dumped on the passenger seat earlier that night.

After his little 'chat' with Charlie, Don had securely locked himself away in his office to finish reading the rest of the contents of Nick's file without interruptions. No small feat considering how thick the thing was! It had taken hours, but eventually Don had managed to finish reading the thing from page to page, word for word until it had become very clear that his secure, safe office was anything but. In fact it had left him almost more than certain that he needed to get himself and the file out of the building immediately.

That was when the phone had rung…

Picking it up with the same care that he would use when putting the pin back into a live grenade, Don had been relived and unsettled to hear Robin on the other end of the line. _What if his phone was being tapped…? What if his office was bugged? What if they already knew about the file because they had heard Robin give it to him earlier?_

"Rob?" He had rudely cut across her as he transferred the phone from his hand to the crook of his neck as he slammed the file shut and began stuffing it into his solid briefcase, spinning the lock. "I'm sorry love, I'm really tied up at the moment…can this wait till I get home?" He had asked placatingly, practically pleadingly as he fought to keep his voice calm.

"I guess," She had replied huffily, knowing that he would probably be hours yet and whatever she was griping about now would more than likely have to wait till the morning.

He'd felt bad, but it was necessary…in fact whilst he was at it…as a precaution he had added, "Also that file you gave me earlier…was just an old case file of Nick's. Don't know why he would give it to you…anyway I'm going to put it back in his cabinet and let the next AD worry about it. Bye!" And quickly put the phone down like it had suddenly scolded him.

That was when he had left and driven to Walmart…

Looking down at the box for his new burner phone, Don silently wonders if he's being too paranoid, Charlie would probably say that he was…then again Larry would probably say he wasn't being paranoid enough…Don just didn't know anymore. Ever since he had read Nick's file…everything was a jumble and too many unsavory thoughts were flashing through his head.

Like who he could trust…that was the problem with conspiracies, it got lonely pretty damn fast as everyone who was once a friend suddenly becomes a potential enemy.

There was one name, however, that had stood out to him as he had devoured the contents of the burgundy file, one name that had been like a beacon anchoring him in the sudden storm of emotion flooding his tired and nervous brain.

Taking the phone out of the packaging, Don tossed the box away as he switched the phone on and quickly punched in a number that he prayed was safe.

"Edgerton," A deep voice answered after a few rings, he sounded surprisingly alert considering it was after midnight.

"Ian!" Don replied relieved to hear the achingly familiar voice. "It's Don."

"Don? I didn't recognize the number…"

"It's… _complicated_ …"

"What's wrong?" Ian askes worriedly, ever astute as he picks up on the tense tone of Don's clipped voice. _What if Ian's phone wasn't secure…?_

"Not on the phone…how fast can you get to LA?"

"I'm almost done here…so probably the end of the week?"

"I don't think you understand," Don whispers quickly; though he was sat in a small layby off a twisted road that overlooked Downtown LA where no one else was even close enough to hear his soft words. "Nick's dead."

"I heard…I'm really sorry Don…"

"I _know_ , everyone is _sorry,"_ Don hisses angrily as his free hand grips the steering wheel till his knuckles turn white. "Sorry…I know you mean well…"

"Don…you're worrying me ok…what's going on?"

"I told you…not over the phone…it's not… _safe_ …and I don't know who else I can trust with this…"

"Tomorrow afternoon."

"Sorry?"

"The earliest I can be there."

"Thank you, thank you, _thank you!"_ Don heaves a massive sigh of relief as he loosens his grip on the steering wheel and watches the colour slowly creep back in.

"Any toys I should bring with me?"

"I'm not sure yet…" Don replies hesitantly as he thinks on the mini arsenal that Ian usually keeps in the trunk of his green jeep. "Bring everything…and Ian…you can't tell anyone that you're coming."

"Understood. Where do you want to meet?"

"There is a little place I know, out of the way," Don whispers conspiritably as he looks around him at the emptiness surrounding him. "I'll text you the coordinates."

"Until tomorrow then…"

"Until tomorrow," Don nods, though Ian can't see him. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye," Ian replies reassuringly, his deep voice soothing Don's racing heart. "And Don… _be safe_."

With Ian's words still ringing in his ears, Don hangs up and pockets the small phone before switching the ignition of the Chevy Suburban back on and driving home to an inevitably pissed off wife.


	5. Chapter 5

**5**

 _*_ _Don Eppes_ _: "Yeah, relax; you got the fifth best shot in the country covering your ass."_

 _Ian Edgerton_ _: "Hey! Fourth…you don't wanna ask how I moved up one spot."_

 _Season 3, Episode 19: Pandora's Box*_

*The Next Morning*

Waiting impatiently for the long line of FBI agents to get moving again, Charlie looks down irritably at his watch and is reminded of the fact that it was entirely too early in the morning for him to have even considered getting out of bed already. What he needed was a caffeine fix, not to be waiting around in a stuffy FBI lobby because the security had been heightened since Nick's death.

"What? No I don't have an appointment!" A middle-aged woman practically screams with frustration at the front desk opposite Charlie, making his migraine pound harder. "But I'm telling you that I _need_ to see the person in charge of the investigation into Mr. Callahan's Murder!"

"I'm sorry mam' but if you don't have an appointment…" The receptionist breaks off as she searches around her for help with the crazy woman at her desk. Charlie didn't recognize her, perhaps she was new…or perhaps it was because of his…time away…

Shaking his head to clear it as he refused to walk down memory lane that morning, especially when he was feeling as hung over as he did right then, Charlie grimaces as he steps out of the long line and heads over to the crazy woman before she can start screaming again.

"Hi there," He forces a smile as the woman turns to consider him. "I couldn't help but hear you mention the investigation into the Assistant Director's murder…can I ask you why you are here?"

"Because I have information about that night and the man on TV…who looks sorta like you now you mention it…anyway he asked for people with information to come forward…so…"

"I see," Charlie nods like she's making total sense as he gives her the once over to decide on a scale of one to insane just how crazy this lady ranked. With her long golden hair pulled back tightly in a bun at the base of her skull, a large brown overcoat and white plimsolls, Charlie had to admit. The woman came across as pretty nuts. "And what information would that be?"

"I…I know where he was the night he was murdered."

"Really?" Charlie replies slowly as he looks disbelievingly between the crazy woman and the receptionist, wishing desperately that he had just stayed in the line. He could have been through by now he realizes sadly as he watches the back of the person behind him in line slip unquestioningly through the tall metal detectors. "And where was that?"

"I'm sorry but who are you?" The lady replies warily as she now looks dubiously back at him.

"My name is Professor Charles Eppes, my brother is running the investigation and I'm working on it as a consultant…you said that you saw the AD that night? Where?"

"At work."

"Where do you work?" He asks irritably through gritted teeth. His stomach was churning and his head was swimming and he was feeling entirely too rough to interrogate the woman in the front lobby.

"Dave's Dinette…you probably haven't heard of it," She replies in frustration as she crosses her arms and glares at him using her best attempt at a mother's disapproving frown. A look Charlie and Don had received a few times as boys.

"DD…" He whispers quietly as he ignores the curious stares from both the receptionist and the perhaps not so crazy lady as he proceeds to dump the contents of his leather satchel over the top of the receptionist's impeccably tidy desk. "Ah ha!" He shouts excitedly causing some of the agents from the ever growing line of agents to look over curiously.

"What?" The receptionist and woman ask in unison as Charlie grabs a crumpled bit of paper with what looked like a beer ring decorating the bottom right corner of the page.

"Nick's schedule!" Charlie shouts excitedly as he offers the page to the woman to look at. "I thought DD was a person! But it's really a place!" He laughs at the receptionist who pulls a worried face as she looks at him like now he was the crazy person. And perhaps he was.

"DD…oh Benjamin…" The woman whispers back as her stubby fingers trace the letters on the page, it was hard for Charlie to gauge the woman's reaction, but it looked something close to grief.

"What's your name?"

"Sally…Sally Donald."

"Sally," Charlie smiles as he takes the page back and offers her his hand. "Call me Charlie. Debbie," Charlie turns to face the receptionist, reading her name tag as he does, "Could you sign Sally in for me? I need to take her to see Don."

"Sorry Mr. Eppes, but your brother isn't here yet," Debbie shrugs at Charlie's surprised expression as she pulls out a folder for Sally to sign.

"But it's ten in the morning?!" Charlie exclaims confused as he looks down at his watch to check he wasn't dreaming. "Where is he?"

"According to his receptionist Scarlett," Debbie leans in close and pushes back her glasses like she's about to tell the motherlode of gossip, "He 'apparently' canceled all his appointments and told her he won't be in till after noon!"

"Oh…" Charlie replies concerned as he begins collecting up his paper's and stuffing them back into his leather satchel. "I could have slept in after all…"

"I'm sorry?" Sally asks confused as she gives him a once over and grimaces at what she finds. "I have some Advil in my purse if you need it?

"Thanks…" Charlie accepts the bottle sheepishly as Debbie hands Sally her visitors badge. "Let's get you upstairs and I'll find an agent to take your statement."

"Thank you," Sally smiles sadly as Charlie takes her arm and leads her over to the line, which had thankfully thinned by then.

*Midday*

Looking off into the distance, Don watches the road fixatedly for the slightest of disturbances. Ian was late and the blistering heat was making him uncomfortable as sweat prickled at his neck and brow.

 _Where was Ian?_ Don frowns with frustration as he checks the display on his burner phone once more. _No messages…did he get lost?"_ Don wonders silently as he crosses his arms for the thousandth time that morning, hugging his body tight.

 _Granted, the little spot where he had parked was out of the way…but that was kind of the point_ , Don chides himself and Ian's tardiness as he continues to watch the road, fidgeting warily.

"Nice view."

"What the…!" Don shouts confused as he spins around at the sound of Ian's gravelly voice to see his lean friend standing right behind him. "Shit!" Don swears loudly as he reaches out and pulls Ian in for a quick bear hug, partly because he was relieved at the reassuring sight of his old friend and partly to check he was real and not a mirage conjured by the unrelenting heat.

"Sorry," Ian grins mischievously as he steps back, readjusting the strap of the sniper rifle slung across his chest around to his back. "I parked further along…from your call last night I thought it best to scout the place out. Check we were alone."

"And the rifle?"

"You told me to bring my toys…" Ian shrugs nonchalantly as he leans back against the bonnet of Don's car, resting his leg lazily on top of the bumper. "Besides…you sounded scared last night…I didn't want to take any chances after what happened to Nick…how are you coping with that by the way?"

"…If I'm honest it hasn't really sunk in yet…"

"No…" Ian looks down sadly as he crosses his arms across his broad chest.

Ian looked thinner to Don and for a moment he is distracted from the mess of his own life. "Forget my troubles, how are _you_?"

"Me?" Ian looks up sharply, his hazel eyes guarded as he considers his reply very carefully. "I'm holding it together…I hope that's not why you had me drive all night to make this little rendezvous?"

"No…" Don whispers thoughtfully as his mind wanders back off of Ian and back onto the burgundy file. He wished Robin had never given him the cursed thing. "No it wasn't…"

"Come on Don, let's stop the dancing around the issue and just get to the part where I can help?"

"That's just it…I don't know how you can help… _if_ you can even help…look…there's this file and…"

"Seriously?" Ian asks incredulously as he pushes away from Don's car and walks slowly over to the small cliff edge that faced out towards L.A, the only town that had gotten close to ever feeling like home. "You bought me out here because of a file?" Ian frowns as he turns back to Don who was busy opening the passenger side of his Chevy.

"It's what's in the file," Don whispers conspiritably as he closes the car door and closes the distance between them until only the file separates them. "Before he died, Nick was looking into corruption in the FBI…but what he found…it runs so much deeper than the FBI."

"How much deeper?" Ian asks curiously as he snatches the file from Don's grasp and begins sifting through several reports on different cops, crimes and evidence that Nick suspected of being dirty.

"If Nick's suspicions are correct then there is corruption in the LAPD, FBI, ATF, Sheriff's Department, DOJ…hell Ian there are senators and mayors in that file. Judges and attorneys…people we know… _well_ …people I know. Ian…there are people that I know in there…"

"Fuck," Ian gapes as Don backs away, shivering in the baking heat. It worried Ian to see Don so distressed. "And you're certain that Nick wasn't just paranoid or insane?"

"I've read it all… _ten times_ ," Don shakes his head warily. "I believe every word…"

"Fuck," Ian curses again as he stops on a profile of an ex FBI buddie.

"I know," Don croaks sickened.

"What about this? PR?" Ian asks curiously as he shuts the file and starts sifting through again from the beginning.

"It's what they call themselves…or what Nick called them anyway…" Don nods weakly as he moves back over to Ian's side and watches his face as he skims through the different pages, stopping here and there on particular reports to read them properly.

"Have you shown this to anyone else?" Ian asks quietly once he's finished skimming through the file for the third time.

"No…but if Nick hid it with Robin then I think he was worried that they were after it."

"If the file is correct then we need to take certain precautions…" Ian whispers thoughtfully, his long slender fingers drumming intensely on the front of the stiff file.

"Like?"

"Hiding the file," Ian replies sharply, as if the answer was obvious.

"Ok…where?"

"Does anyone other than you and Robin know about the file?"

"Charlie but he thinks it's just a file."

"You and Charlie are talking again?" Ian asks curiously, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth despite his worried expression.

"It's a long story…" Don replies dismissively as he considers the file once more. "I was careful about meeting you here. If they are bugging my office then they might know about the file…but they won't know that I told you. _You_ should hide it."

"Where?" Ian asks skeptically as he looks down at the file in his hands like it's an unexploded bomb. "I'm currently living out of my dad's jeep; I have nowhere safe to stash the thing!"

"Well neither do I!" Don shouts back frustrated. "My place could already be compromised…and I couldn't trust anyone else with the file."

"Why not Charlie?"

"Because A: they would expect that, and B: after what happened with dad…I wouldn't put Charlie in danger like that. Even if he did mean well and only wanted to help…"

"Don…I forgot…the anniversary…is this month isn't it?"

"Yes…" Don replies tersely, they were digressing and he needed to get the conversation back on track and away from such tender memories. "Look, I don't care where you stash it…but you must have a place? You lived here for five years didn't you?"

"Ok…ok…I might have a spot…but Don…how do we even go about investigating this? I mean you think it's why Nick was murdered…don't you?"

"Yes."

"Well you can't just announce that to the team…God knows who we can trust…but I mean seriously. How are we supposed to pull down a tree that has this many roots?"

"By finding the man in charge," Don replies quietly, a steely glint in his eyes as he looks at the thick file before finally meeting Ian's eyes, "By finding the man that gave the order to kill my best friend."

"And your plan to do that?"

"I don't know," Don admits sadly as he shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot. "We can start by finding a safe place for that file."

"Ok," Ian nods, his own usual sense of smug calm shattered as he considers the sudden calm in Don.

"I'm glad you're here," Don offers the smallest and saddest of smiles before moving away from Ian to the driver's side of his black Chevy.

"Thank you?" Ian laughs sarcastically as he moves over to Don and leans in the open window. "Look, I'll call you later…once I've stashed the file. We can meet back here and think of a plan."

"No, _I'll_ call you," Don grins as he throws his burner phone at Ian, who catches it deftly in his large hands. "Don't worry I'll get myself a new one," Don adds when he sees the look of confusion on Ian's face. "After all we don't know who might be listening on yours," Don states quietly as Ian nods approvingly before putting the Chevy into reverse and driving away, leaving Ian to make the long walk back to his jeep alone save for the file.

*Later That Afternoon*

Running hard to keep up with the search dogs; Colby places a hand over his wide chest to stop his tie bouncing up into his face as he makes yet another sharp right, pushing them further away from the grimy diner. It had taken a little while for the dogs to pick up Nick's scent but the second they had they were off, handler in tow, leaving Colby and the rest to catch up.

Now, his legs pumping and lungs burning, Colby watched as the dogs stopped dead at the entrance to a thin alleyway, barking bloody murder and snapping at the lead to keep going. "Down there?" He asked reluctantly between breaths, winded from the long sprint.

"Looks like a dead end," One handler nodded as he yanked hard on the lead and commanded the dog to sit in German. "We'll keep the dogs back here till you've checked it out."

"Thanks," Colby whispers cynically as he considers the short gap between buildings in all of its filthy glory before walking flashlight and gun first into the dark ally.

"Do you see anything?" Liz asks quietly as she too walks flashlight and gun first into the dark ally, focusing on the opposite side to Colby. "Or is it a figurative dead end as well?

"Dog's stopped for a reason," Colby shrugs as they move further into the ally, the beam of his flashlight sweeping slowly across the floor and wall. "Looks like there could be signs of a disturbance, but that don't mean it's where Nick was taken."

"No but it is where he was murdered," Liz replies flatly as her flashlight beam lights up a dark red mess across the floor and back wall. "Arterial spray…its dry…this could be it Col…I think we're looking at the primary crime scene."

"Shit," Colby hisses as he adds the beam of his own flashlight to the blood-spattered mess and spots a metal glint in amongst the dried blood and grime. "I have a shell casing."

"What type?"

"45. caliber…"

"Just like Nick's Glock…" Liz shivers uncomfortably as her hushed words hang in the emotionally charged air between them.

"Ballistics hasn't come back yet, we don't know that he was shot with his own gun…" Colby replies too quickly as he shifts uneasily from side to side, his mind swimming with possible scenarios of Nick's death. _What a place to go!_

"Here is what we do know," Liz replies tersely, frowning hard at Colby's obvious denial. "Nick suffered blunt force trauma to his face perimortem. The wound shape was consistent with that of a butt of a gun and the butt of Nick's gun was bloody."

"Lab's haven't come back on the blood found on Nick's gun yet. It could be from Nick's attacker!" Colby replies hopefully, refusing to believe the worst because the thought of your own gun being used against you…it was an agent's second worst nightmare, the worst being that it's used to hurt civilians. "Enough of the speculating! Don wouldn't like it."

"Talking of which…does Don seem ok to you?" Liz asks quietly, temporarily distracted.

"In what way?" Colby replies nonchalantly as he kneels down closer to the blood splatter. He really didn't want to discuss Don with Liz.

"He seems jumpy…and he didn't come in this morning…Don's never late…"

"Well...his best friend did just die and the brother who hasn't talked to him in two years has just come back into the picture…"

"No…" Liz shakes her head vehemently. "It's more than that."

"What more could there be? Don's not himself because he's grieving. Robin will see him straight," Colby replies flatly as he stands back up and looks back at the ally's entrance where the two dogs are still sat patiently, staring intently at Liz and Colby. "Meanwhile we'll keep investigating. Let's get Don and us some closure."

"Ok," Liz nods sadly, dropping the subject of Don but still looking worried. "We should call CSI Knolls; get the team down here to process the scene."

"I'll do that, can you get the others down here to canvas a ten block radius around this ally. I want witness statements, evidence, and information…anything there is to be found I want it found."

"What about Don?"

"I'll phone Don, give him an update. Let him know that we've possibly found the primary and then I'll wait here for the CSI's to get here," Colby replies quietly as he holsters his weapon and clicks off his flashlight before turning around and heading back towards the search dogs and their handlers.

"Did you find anything?" One of the handlers asked curiously as he scratches lazily at the dog's ear.

"A crime was definitely committed in this ally," Colby confirms as he kneels down to make a fuss of the dog that had sniffed the ally out. "I need you to see if your dogs can pick anything else up or if this is definitely it."

"We will take them up the road a bit," The handler nods as Colby stands back up and pulls out his cell phone. "See what they can pick up."

"Thanks," Colby smiles gratefully as he moves away so that he isn't distracted by Liz's own set of phone calls and punches in the number for CSI Gary Knolls who fortunately picks up on the third ring.

"CSI Knolls."

"Gaz, its Col…" Colby greets warmly. "…We think we've found it."

"The primary?!" Gary replies shocked. "How'd that happen?"

"A witness came forward this morning…the dogs did the rest."

"Give me the address and Samantha and I will be right over!" Gary replies enthusiastically down the line.

"Bring some extra man power for this one Gaz…I want the scene processed quickly. There is blood and we need to know if its Nick's ASAP."

"I'll get every available man on it," Gary agrees without a fuss and after Colby gives him the address quickly rings off to arrange everything, by which time Liz is done with her own phone calls.

"What do you want me to do?" Liz asks quietly as she uses her hand to shield her eyes against the sun's hot rays.

"I need you to get Charlie up to date," Colby whispers quietly as he pulls her aside from the dog handlers who were preparing the dogs to keep hunting. "The blood we found in the ally…its consistent with the gunshot wound Claudia found but I don't think it's where they removed his heart…I think we are looking for a secondary crime scene and we need Charlie to help come up with a way to find out where that is in case the dogs come back empty."

"Ok," Liz nods before saying goodbye and heads back to FBI headquarters. Leaving Colby alone to make the awkward phone call to Don, who as Liz had mentioned earlier, was worryingly absent that morning.

 _Where are you?_ Colby sighs, his heart sinking as he hears the all too familiar answer phone message of Don's voicemail.


	6. Chapter 6

**6**

 ***** _Charlie Eppes_ _: How do you forgive yourself if you're wrong?_

 _Don Eppes_ _: You don't. We can't be wrong._

 _Season 1, Episode 3: Vector*_

*Two Days Later*

Resting his back against the hard wooden bench, Don closes his eyes and enjoys the brief trickle of a breeze that teases over his hot, sweaty skin. It was yet another burning hot day in LA and as the heatwave looked to be unbreakable, Don savoured every rare soft breeze to come his way.

It had been two days since the primary crime scene had been discovered, though Don had never visited it he had seen the pictures…and they hadn't painted a pretty picture of his friend's final moments. It had also been two days since Ian had come in to town and two fateful days since Don had read the horrifying truth.

He felt like Keanu Reeves in the matrix being offered the red pill or the blue pill. _"You take the_ _blue pill_ _, the story ends. You wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill, you stay in wonderland, and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes."_ And Don had seen how far the rabbit hole went…well as much of it as Nick had discovered before his death and what his friend had discovered frightened Don to his core.

In all his years in the FBI he had managed to hold true to the belief that they were an infallible…incorruptible institution…a beacon of hope in an otherwise bleak and unsavoury world. He didn't believe that anymore and it pained him to admit as much. It hurt him to pretend life was normal, that nothing had happened that everything was ok. But it was necessary, for his family's sake, if not his own, so paint on a face and pretend was exactly what he would do…for now.

Opening his eyes, Don looked over to the swings where Gracie was grinning and laughing wildly as she sored backwards and forwards slowly gaining more and more height, her silky brown hair whipping erratically about her face. Happy and carefree, that was how he would describe his little girl, his precious daughter. She was the spitting image of her mother at that age with her ivory skin and little rosebud lips, her eyes shining with laughter and an unspoken challenge. She was daring and adventurous, quick to speak out, not a slither of meekness or remorse in her. Even now at aged five, Don could tell that his little girl was going to break hearts someday…though not until she's thirty if he could help it!

 _Someday_ …Don sighs sadly to himself as he looks down at the burner phone clasped tightly in his hands. It was getting harder and harder to picture 'someday'…ever since that damned file. It was moments like this, watching his daughter leap form the swings and land graceful as a gymnast that Don wished he could take the 'blue pill'…go back to being ignorant…God he wished he could forget the last week as these days it took all of Don's courage and strength not to crack under the pressure or the weight of his grief let alone the weight of that bastard file.

"Daddy!" Gracie shouts excitedly from the top of the climbing wall and he waves back distractedly as the phone in his other hand begins to ring.

"Hello?" He asks cautiously, it could only be Ian as only Ian had the number but these days Don took nothing for granted. Precaution was his word for the day, a valuable lesson as he had almost missed the black sedan that had followed him and Gracie on the short trip to the park. But catch the car he had, giving him time to warn Ian away.

"Hello," Ian's reassuring low timber whispered in Don's ear and Don let out the large breath he hadn't known he had been holding. "I'm by the chess tables…where are you?"

"By the jungle Jim…but wait! Didn't you get my message?" Don practically shouts, startling a couple of mothers close by, pushing their prams across the grass to a nearby duck pond. "I'm being followed," Don adds in a harsh whisper as he crosses his legs and turns away from the watching mothers.

"I know…black Sedan right?"

"Yes."

"They've been sat in the car taking pictures of you for the past twenty minutes, don't know why…you taking a phone call is about the most interesting thing you've done. No one cares for pictures of you topping up your tan."

"Pictures? Of just me? Or Gracie too?"

"Don't worry Don. I've got you covered."

"What does that mean?" Don asks worriedly as he looks suspiciously around him. "Ian, what does that mean?"

"Back in ten." Ian grins down the line before hanging up, leaving Don to 'top up on his tan' as he so nicely put it. Shrugging, Don watches as Gracie boldly approaches some other children and asks to join in their game of chase. But as ten minutes comes and goes and the phone stays eerily Don can't help but feel his heart beat a little faster in his chest.

Waiting…that was what Don found the hardest. Whilst the file was damning, it wasn't irrefutable proof and how he and Ian was supposed to go about getting irrefutable proof Don didn't have the foggiest. There was a lot to consider, several angles to cover, different avenues they could take and as Don waited, back rigid against the hard bench, he let his mind wander over the different scenarios, each one more frightening than the last.

"Jesus, relax will you, I feel tense just looking at you."

"What?" Don looks up confused and is startled to see a tall stranger towering over him, a sly grin the only part of his face visible beneath a black baseball cap.

"I said chill out," The stranger huffs gruffly as he takes the empty space on the bench beside Don and stretches out his long legs with cat like agility.

Turning to regard the man carefully, Don starts with the man's beaten army surplus boots; moves up the man's worn jeans to the blue cotton shirt that stuck to the stranger's lean torso in sweaty patches; up the man's neck and stubbled jaw to the black baseball cap that Don now saw had a 'LA LAKERS' logo sprawled across the brim and couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Ian?"

"Yup," Ian grins mischievously as he lifts the brim of the hat so that Don could now see his familiar face more clearly.

"Shit!" Don swears frightened as he looks around him to see if anyone was paying them any attention. "You can't just come up to me like this!" Don chastises Ian as he flicks a quick glance at his daughter who was still playing with the other kids, but it looked like they had moved on to a game of stuck in the mud.

"It's ok," Ian flicks his hand dismissively as he leans back against the bench's sturdy fame, closes his eyes and raises his face to sun, to anyone passing by he looked like the complete image of relaxation. Contrastingly, in his dark suit and aviator sunglasses, back rigid and shoulders tensed, Don looked like the complete image of a nervous wreck and Don couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation, though most of it was nervous tension that made him giggle a little insanely at the thought of the pair of them.

" _Ok_ ," He splutters disbelievingly. "Have you forgotten that the world as we know it is crashing down around us? _I'm being watched for Christ's sake_!"

"No I hadn't," Ian frowns as he turns to consider Don properly for the first time since sitting down. "It's _ok_ because I took care of it like I told you I was taking care of it."

"What does that mean? You took care of it? What did you do Ian?"

"I visited your friends in the Sedan; they agreed to take a little nap so we could have a private chat."

" _Agreed?_ "

"So I'm using the term loosely, do you really want to waste time debating?"

"Of course not!"

"Then forget about your tail. I've cleared the hard drive on their camera… _you're welcome_ …and checked them and their car, but they had no ID on them. I did get a picture of their faces though and a copy of their licence plate. I have a friend who can run them through the database without raising any red flags. But that's not what's important here. The file…"

"What about it?" Don asks tentatively, a little overwhelmed by the whole situation. He felt like he was in a spy film and the thought was more than a little unsettling… _shit…it didn't go as far as the CIA did it?_ Don hadn't seen any mention of them in the file…but who knew. Up was down at the moment and though he hated to admit it, _no one_ could be trusted. _Everyone_ was a suspect.

"I have a PO box where we can stash it. It's under a fake name with a fake company attached, completely untraceable…"

"That's great!" Don smiles for the first time that afternoon.

"The problem is," Ian replies cautiously causing Don's smile to come crashing back down. "I can't get to it."

"What do you mean by _can't get to it_?"

"They know my face too well around there and we need my _'presence'_ in town to remain unknown if I'm to help take down this…PR organisation."

"Damn," Don swears angrily, Ian was right that no one could know Ian was in town…Don just hated what he knew was coming next.

"You need to take it there."

And there it was.

" _Fuck_." Don growls as he stands up hotly, wrapping his arms around him for protection. "You have it on you don't you!" He practically shouts accusingly.

"How else are you going to get it there if I don't give it back to you?" Ian replies tersely, his calm facade broken just enough that Don manages to catch a glimpse of the fear behind Ian's cleaver mask of indifference before he regains control and the mask slips back into place. "Now sit back down. I have one last thing to tell you."

"What?"

"I've spent the last two days pouring over this thing and I can only see one angle to tackle it…but before we go there I want to put a few feelers out. Don't look so worried, they are reliable people and I won't bring up the file or PR…just a couple possible leads from the file."

"What's your angle?"

"Not here. Not now," Ian gets up and gives a long sweeping glance around them as he stretches out his back and arms. "We've already spent too much time talking. Gracie is getting curious…she looks just like Robin by the way," Ian smiles softly as Don looks over at Gracie and sees that Ian is right, she may have moved back over to the swings, but her gaze was trained Don or his bench. Fortunately for Don, Ian hadn't been back to LA in a year and it had been even longer since he had actually come around Don's. Gracie wouldn't recognise Ian…well Don hoped she wouldn't any way.

"Fine…where is the file? And where is the PO box?"

"The file is already in your briefcase," Ian grins mischievously once more as he starts to walk away. "And the address to the PO box is in the file."

Snatching up his briefcase, Don places it across his knees and quickly unjumbles the locks and sure enough, on top of all the other files he had taken from the office that morning was the blasted file.

Looking up to ask Ian how he had gotten it in there without Don noticing, Don found that the path around him was already empty. Ian was gone…and Don felt suddenly very alone.

Ian's face might have been too recognisable to get into his own PO box, but Ian had forgotten that Don had his own tail to worry about. Slamming the briefcase shut and standing up quickly he beckoned to Gracie to come over.

Playtime was over.

"Is it time to pick up Brandon?" Gracie asks breathily as she runs from the swings to Don's side and immediately takes his hand.

" _Shit!"_ Don swears loudly, in all the drama he had forgotten that he was supposed to be picking up his son from school, where he had stayed behind after class for a tutoring session in the library.

"That's a bad word," Gracie giggles as Don looks at his watch and swears internally again. _Shit!_ They were going to be late, and his moody teen was probably going to be moodier than ever now.

"I know sweetie," Don apologises as he reaches down and takes Gracie in his arms. "Don't tell mommy ok!"

"Ok," She promises softly as she rests her head against Don's shoulder and immediately falls asleep, tuckered out from the heat and a long play in the park.

Groaning as he juggles his briefcase and the three stone dead weight of a child, Don half powerwalks half sprints back to his car, settles Gracie in her car seat in the back and then jumps into his own seat.

 _Sorry Brandon!_ Don whispers to himself as he checks the rear-view mirror and spots the black Sedan parked a few cars back, its passengers did indeed look like they were sleeping. Maybe this was it! His moment to get the file to the PO box. He could pick up Brandon and then drive right over and never be seen. It was perfect…a little too perfect.

Shrugging, Don pulls out of the parking space and heads for his son's high school. Taking the situation with the Sedan for what it was: a stroke of luck. Feeling positive, but still watchful, Don manages to make it from the park to the high school in record time, but most importantly unfollowed.

*Meanwhile*

Arms up, bum out, legs pinched, body twisted and bat ready, Brandon Eppes squints down the practice cage at the ball machine opposite him, anticipating the machines next lobby.

"C'mon Brandon, you know this! I talked you through the answer only half an hour ago!"

"Shh, I'm concentrating."

"Don't make me take that bat off you and hit you with it!" Gabrielle, Brandon's tutor threatens as she stands up, dusts herself off and moves over to his right side. "You know I will," She whispers against his ear, her voice a seductive promise as she places a hand gently on his batting arm at the exact moment the machine decides to spit out the next ball, aimed straight for his bat which was exactly where Gabrielle's head was now blocking.

Dropping the bat and moving quickly, Brandon twists his tense body around and stations himself like a shield between Gabrielle and the oncoming ball only seconds before it hits him squarely and painfully between his shoulder blades. "Gabby! I told you to stay at the back of the cage!" He shouts angrily, his breathing ragged as he pushes her backwards until her back's pressed up hard against the iron railing, only a hairs width between them.

"I'm sorry Brandon," She whispers apologetically, all her previous bravado gone as she stands rigid in his grasp and fails to meet his intense glare.

Back stinging, Brandon continues to stare down into her pale freckled face and frowns as a small breeze rushes through the batting cage, whipping Gabby's long soft ginger hair forwards to tickle at his chin.

"Shit," He swears angrily as he drops his hands and steps away, taking the heat between them with him as he moves back over to the plate and picks the bat up. "Galactic bulge."

"What?!"

"The answer to the question: "What is the center of a galaxy made of mostly older stars called?" It's a Galactic bulge…"

"Right!" She blushes bright red as she settles back down on the ground and picks up her text book. "In a spiral galaxy like the Milky Way, the stars, gas, and dust are organized into a "bulge," a "disk" containing "spiral arms," and a "halo." Elliptical galaxies have a bulge-like central region and a halo, but do not have a disk…" She reads aloud from her notes that had been marking the page before turning the sheet over and reading some more but Brandon's attention had already moved on as he squatted back down and waited for the next ball.

When the machine eventually spits it out Brandon hits it hard to the back of the cage. If they had been playing on a field it easily would have gone further and been a home run of a hit. "Did you see that?!" He exclaims proudly as he swivels around, a broad grin splitting his handsome face in two. Though he hadn't quite grown into his crooked nose yet, Brandon had Don's dark brooding features that made him quite striking…not quite as classically good looking like his brother Marc, who had a lot of their mother in him too, but rugged good looks that hinted at a mischievous nature.

"That was incredible!" Gabby grins back, the previous five minutes forgotten as she laughs at Brandon's little victory dance. "Why aren't you on the team? You could easily get a scholarship with that arm!"

"I was…I quit…I don't want to talk about it," Brandon replies huffily, quick to lose his temper.

"Ok, ok" She holds her hands up in surrender as Brandon shuts the ball machine down before joining her at the back of the cage. "You ready to study properly now?"

"Can't," He grins impishly as he looks down at his watch, "Time's up, you are off the clock, no need to keep badgering me."

"You getting the bus home?" She asks curiously as she packs up her books into her large rucksack, careful to keep her breathing normal and her eyes on the bag.

"Naw," He replies casually, unaware of the way her face falls as he picks up a stone from the dusty ground next to him and lobs it across the cage. "My dad's picking me up but he'll be a while yet."

"Why?"

"Because he'll have forgotten me," Brandon replies indifferently. He wasn't angry really; he just knew that from past experiences he wasn't very high on his father's list of priorities. Brandon would give it an hour and then call his mom to come get him.

"Oh," Gabrielle whispers with surprise as Brandon leans in and kisses her gently at first and then harder when Gabby deepens the kiss. "What was that for?" She asks dizzily when they eventually come up for air.

"For that look you gave me," Brandon frowns down at Gabby, his cheeks blushing pink as he reaches out and tangles his fingers in her soft hair. "Don't ever look at me like that again."

"Like what?" She asks confused, her round chest rising and falling a little quicker at his touch.

"Like I'm some puppy that's just been kicked…it is what it is. It doesn't bother me, why should it bother you?"

"Brandon…" She sighs softly, but he had already pulled away from her, grabbing his bag.

"We should wait around the front," He tells her tersely as he opens the gate to the cage and holds it open for her.

"Ok…"

"Look..." Brandon tells her sheepishly when they finally make it around to the front of the school, pausing briefly to drop off some of Gabby's books at her locker, before parking their butts down on the front wall. "I'm sorry…about before…snapping at you like that…"

"That's ok…"

Sitting awkwardly in silence, neither knowing what to say to the other, Brandon watches the road and the people passing by. "Want to play a game my brother and I used to play?"

"What's that?" Gabby asks intrigued, her pale cheeks flushed pink as she uses her hand to shield her eyes from the unrelenting heat.

"Ok, so you see that woman?"

"Yes…"

"What do you think her story is?"

"She looks like a teacher…doesn't she work in the English department?"

"Ok…well I recon she's secretly a spy who works in the English department as a cover. She's on the hunt for an alien and reports say…he goes to our school," Brandon whispers dramatically as they watch the teacher subtly look around her before getting in her car and pulling away.

"Naw," Gabby shakes her head as she points down the road a little at a man using an old telephone booth. If anyone is a secret agent it's him. Tall, dark, mysterious…why I bet that's him reporting back to his bosses now!"

"See, now you're getting the hang of the game," Brandon grins as he rests his hand down on the wall and catches part of Gabriel's hand under his.

"Yeah?" She smiles prettily at him as she unconsciously leans forwards a little; her lid's lowered against the sun.

"Yeah he grins back as he leans forward too in anticipation of another kiss.

"BRANDON!" He hears suddenly, causing his head to jerk away fast as he looks around him for the cause of the noise.

"Is that your little sister?" Gabby asks laughing hard as sure enough he spots his dad's car with Gracie half hanging out the back window whilst his dad tries to pull her back in.

"Will you be ok getting home?" Brandon asks quickly as he scoops ups his backpack and starts heading over to the car.

"Yeah I'll be fine," Gabrielle replies between laughs as she smiles and waves goodbye.

"Cool," Brandon grins back as he jumps in the front passenger seat. "I'll text you later about getting together to study again tomorrow," He calls out through the open window.

"Ok, bye!" She waves as Don pulls away from the curb and Brandon watches her till she's out of site.

That was quite an unexpected study session…but now he had kissed Gabby, he found he wanted to do it again…and again…he was definitely hoping tomorrows 'study' session went as well!

"Brandon!" Gracie, properly buckled in once more, shouts at him from the backseat. "I went to the park and I jumped off the swings and I stayed on my feet!" She proclaims proudly as Brandon turns around to grin at her.

"Oh yeah?" Brandon whispers conspiritably as Don makes a sudden turn and starts heading in the wrong direction. "Where are we going?" He asks confused.

"Yeah! Where are we going?" Gracie shouts loudly from the back.

"I need gas," Don explains shiftily as he makes another sudden turn down a side street before heading around the block back in the direction they had just come from.

"Is everything ok?" Brandon asks worriedly as he looks over at his father's rigid frame, his eyes darting between the road and the rear-view mirror.

"Of course," Don replies statically as he drives straight past a gas station down yet another side street.

"I thought you needed gas?"

"The price was too high."

"Well there is a seven-eleven; can't you just get your gas there? I'd like a soda it's too damn hot in this heat!"

"Brandon said DAMN!" Gracie giggles from the back as Don scowls at her in the mirror.

"Sure," He relents, much to Brandon's surprise; too distracted to tell his son off for cursing…something was definitely up. "Here is a twenty, get your sister a soda too."

"Sure," Brandon frowns as he takes the money and gets out. Getting out too, Don hastily begins filling up the tank as Brandon crosses over to the shop.

"Can I help you?" The sales clerk asks bored as she looks up briefly from her newspaper to serve Brandon.

"Can I get two sodas?" Branson asks as he plants the twenty down on the counter and stares out the window whilst the lady pours them.

 _Son of a bitch!_ Brandon stands up straight in startled confusion as he moves closer to the window and watches as the man from the phone booth gets out of a dark sedan and begins to fill up his tank, his eyes never shifting off Don who was too busy being distracted by something Gracie was doing.

"Anything else?" The sales clerk asks as she starts ringing up the sodas on the outdated till.

"Sorry, I have to go," Brandon apologises quickly as he grabs the twenty and leaves the shop, leaving the unimpressed sales clerk behind him. "Excuse me sir!" Brandon shouts to a police officer sat in his patrol car eating a donut and reading a paper. "Excuse me!" He calls again, this time tapping on the glass to get the officers attention.

"Can I help you son?" The officer asks as he slowly rolls the window down and gives Brandon a once over.

"Yes officer! You see that man over there?" Brandon replies breathily, faking fear, although not needing to work that hard at it, as he points over to the man watching Don who was rushing to get back into his car.

"Yes…" The officer replies wearily.

"He just tried to get me into his car!"

"What?!"

"Sir…I think he might be a predator!"

"Let me go speak to him," The officer replies as he hastily puts his paper and donut aside and gets out of the car. "You wait here son. You're safe now."

"Thank you sir!" Brandon calls after the officer who swiftly moves over to the dark sedan and pulls the guy out of the car. Not waiting around to see what happens, Brandon sprints back over to the car and slams the door shut behind him.

"Where are your sodas?" Don asks confused as he takes in his empty handed son.

"Just drive."

"Bran?"

" _Please_ dad, we need to leave _now!_ " Brandon shouts as he watches the police officer turn back to his squad car and point at where Brandon had just been. "Drive now if you want to lose your tail," Brandon hisses, catching Don's attention who quickly pulls out of the gas station and drives away in the opposite direction to home.

"What do you know about tails?" Don asks finally, after a long drive in absolute silence.

"The guy at the gas station…he was at the school…and the way you were driving before…I'm not _stupid_ dad."

"No…you're not stupid at all!" Don laughs as he stops at a red light and turns to regard his son. "Thank you Bran."

"What's going on dad?" Brandon asks half confused and half pleased at his dad's praise, it didn't come that often so he had to savour the moments when it did.

"Not yet," Don whispers conspiritably as he looks in his rear-view at Gracie. "Little ears," He explains as the light turns green and he starts driving once more. "Bran…I have an errand for you…it's a very important errand…do you think you could help me with that?"

"What sort of errand?"

"There is a file…it's important in a big case I'm working. I need you to take it to this address, use the key in the inside flap and put it in the PO Box number on the key. Can you do that for me?"

"Then you'll tell me everything?"

"Of course," Don replies honestly. "I'll drop Gracie off with Marc whilst you do this _little_ errand…then meet me at the cemetery…by your grandfather's grave and I'll explain everything."

"Ok," Brandon whispers as Don pulls the car over and gets out. Following Don to the boot of the car, Brandon watches as Don pulls a thick file from his briefcase and hands it over.

"This is extremely important Brandon…I'm trusting you to do this."

"I won't let you down," Brandon swallows hard at the desperation in his father's gaze as he takes the file and shoves it into his backpack.

"I know you won't son," Don smiles weakly before heading back over to the driver's side of the car and pulls the door open a crack. "Remember meet me at the cemetery in an hour…"

"Ok," Brandon whispers scared as he watches Don look around him like a paranoid and easily startled rabbit. Brandon had never seen his father act so afraid and that made Brandon feel ten times worse.

"Be safe Bran," Don shouts back as he climbs into the car and gives a little wave in the rear-view mirror.

Running over to the entrance of the subway that Don had just dropped him off in front of; Brandon watches as Don pulls away from the curb and drives off quickly in the direction of home.

 _Shit!_ Brandon curses internally as he quickly ducks behind the wall marking the entrance of the subway station and watches as a black sedan drives slowly past, the passenger clearly searching all the faces in the crowd.

 _How did they catch up? Do they have a tracker on the car? No they were searching the crowd…they knew he was here…how?_ Reaching for his cell to call Don, Brandon realised he was being an idiot.

"Hey," Brandon calls out to a passing teen on a skate board with a similar build and haircut. "Can we make a trade?"

"What trade?" The kid asks suspiciously as Brandon waves his iPhone at him.

"My jacket and phone for your hoodie and board?"

"Yeah ok!"

"Thanks," Brandon replies relieved as he quickly rips off his jacket and hands it over before throwing the hoodie on over his head and pulls the hood up to hide his face. "Have fun," He waves goodbye as he chucks the kid his phone and skates off in the opposite direction.

Looking back only once, Brandon watches as a man and a woman in dark suits pull the kid aside for questioning. Not sticking around though to see what happens next, Brandon jumps on the first available train and heads off in the direction of the mysterious PO Box.

*Later*

Peering out from behind the long lens of his camera, ex-special agent Kyle Lorton watches uncomfortably as SAIC Don Eppes falls to his knees in front of his father's grave, a smooth pebble pressed hard against his grief stricken lips as the heavens above him opened, weeping with him.

Sighing, Kyle lowers the camera and rests it on the hard ledge of the stone window he is leaning against. For the last hour now the sky above had been flashing with lightning and roaring with thunder, promising rain. It was just unfortunate for him that it had to happen now, rendering his camera useless. Management weren't going to be happy about it, especially as he was missing the entrance of Brandon, Don's son to the macabre scene.

Sighing again, Kyle picks up his camera once more and peers into the lens. The heavy rain made it impossible to get a clear image but he snapped a photo anyway as Don reaches forward and places the small stone on top of the grave as Brandon watches on dispassionately.

"I didn't know that you left the FBI to become a photographer."

"What the?!" Kyle stammers, jumping as he rushes to look around him but the small mausoleum he his hiding in is empty, save for the dead. "Who's out there?" He demands hotly as he pulls out his Glock and marches over to the entrance of the crypt and peers out into the hard sheet of rain.

"Back here."

"Ian? For fucks sake! How did you get back there?" Kyle asks confused but doesn't lower is weapon as he moves closer to get a better look.

"Through the door, naturally," Ian smiles lazily, unfazed by the gun aimed at his chest.

"You know what I mean you sarcastic fuck!" Kyle frowns warily before finally holstering his gun. "What are you doing here? In LA I mean? Reports said you were chasing fugitives in the Virginia Mountains."

"Rumours of my whereabouts have been grossly exaggerated but I'm touched that you've been keeping track of me," Ian grins menacingly, causing a shiver to run down Kyle's back.

"Clearly," Kyle replies dryly as he takes a large swallow to calm his nerves before moving over to the window once more to check that Don and Brandon were still at the grave. They were, _thank God_. "What are you doing _here_ then?"

"You looked bored," Ian shrugs innocently as he crosses his legs and leans back on the tomb that he's sacrilegiously perched on. "I thought I'd bring you some reading material."

"What reading material?" Kyle asks cautiously as he picks up his camera and places it in its protective case to save it from the spits of rain slashing in against the windows stone ledge.

"Read for yourself," Ian smiles slyly as he points to a blue A4 folder sat on the tomb next to his.

"Where did you get this?" Kyle looks up troubled; his brow furrowed as he folds the front cover back and turns the article to face Ian.

"It's a funny thing…possession…" Ian replies matter of fact as he examines his nails disinterestedly. "You see, your bosses think that Don has Callaghan's file. But I do."

"What? When?"

"Kyle, Kyle, Kyle, all of that following Don around and you missed the vital exchange of information. I thought I taught you better than that."

"Earlier…in the park…that was you? _You_ took out agents Vasiliev and Finn?"

"That was their names? They weren't wearing their badges."

"What are you doing here Ian? _What do you want?"_

" _Want?_ Well I want in of course!" Ian grins wolfishly as the sound of crackling lightning, roaring thunder and the pouring rain continues to reverterbrate around the small tomb.

"What?" Kyle asks confused, not sure if he's missed heard.

"You heard," Ian replies softly, reading Kyles thoughts as he stands up and moves over to Kyle so that only the folder that he was still holding out separated them. "That one's a freebie to help out an old friend. Tell management that I have the file and I'm willing to destroy it for them."

"What's the catch?"

"The catch is that once it's destroyed, I want in. I'm getting old Kyle…I need to start thinking about my career _after_ the FBI. I think we both know that I would be an asset to your little security firm and to PR."

"I don't know what you think it is I do…or who it is I work for…but I'd imagine whoever you are talking about wouldn't just let you in without proof of your _friendship_."

"That's why I'm going to sweeten the deal," Ian smiles sardonically as he moves away from Kyle over to the window and points his hand out into the pouring rain at Don and Brandon. "And clean up your fucking mess."

"What?"

"Don is a loose end. Tell management that I will _tie up_ that end for you. To prove my ' _friendship'_ as you so poetically called it, I'll even do it pro bono…but after I want in."

"You'd do that? Destroy the file and _kill_ Don?"

Shrugging, Ian moves away from the window, over to the entrance and pauses in the doorway. Framed for a brief moment in lightning so that only his silhouette was visible, Ian's soft voice reaches out to him in the dark. "The way I see it…it's my future or his…I picked mine."

And then he was gone. Turning to look out the window at the gloomy mud slicked cemetery, Kyle chewed on Ian's last words. _Was his interest in PR genuine? Ian had been known to walk a dangerous line between dirty and virtuous in the past, even when Kyle had known him…was Ian finally picking a side?_

Really it didn't matter what Kyle thought…he would take it to management and let them decide. Grabbing his camera case, Kyle looked out at Don's father's empty tombstone. His quarry had given him the slip… _again_.

"Not to worry," Kyle smiles sinisterly into the dark. If Ian could be trusted, Don would soon get his.


	7. Chapter 7

**7**

 _*_ _"_ _Justice? Kid, you read too many comic books." –Ross Moore_

 _Season 4, Episode 9: Graphic*_

*The Next Day*

As the air fizzles and rumbles around Don and Colby, humming with the promise of more rain, they stand together watching dispassionately as the people around them begin setting up ready for the morning's press conference; blithely ignoring the ominous black clouds hanging threateningly above.

"Looks like it should be quite the turn out," Colby nods scathingly at the group of reporters at the foot of the main steps who were already squabbling amongst themselves, fighting over the best spots to set up their cameras with the clearest view of the podium.

"Are you ready to give your speech?" Don asks quietly, his brow furrowed with a mixture of nerves and contempt. It was well known amongst the other agents that Don Eppes hated press conferences but Colby found it hard to fathom what might have Don so worried.

"Liz helped me prepare my statement last night," Colby nods as he turns his back on the tense scene unfurling around them to consider Don properly. Colby was worried because Don had been acting cagey for days now and whilst he was respectful of the fact that Don was grieving, his strange behavior was starting to get well…it was starting to get weird…like turning the breakroom into a second office weird; in fact Colby couldn't remember the last time that he had even seen Don step inside his office since discovering Nick's body…

"Good," Don offers a small smile as he scans the crowd around them suspiciously, arousing Colby's own suspicions.

"Are you ok?" Colby whispers concernedly as they both step aside to let the lighting and sound guys in to finish setting up the mini stage that had been put together earlier, a small wooden podium and metal chairs sat expectantly at the center. All that was left was for the camera crew to finish prepping the stage and speakers, Colby had already been wired up with a small microphone clipped to his silk tie but Don was yet to hand himself over to their mercy.

"Of course," Don smiles again with false sincerity as he casts a side long glance in Colby's direction before looking back past him into the crowd once more. "I'm looking for Brandon and Robin. We are supposed to be going for lunch after I introduce you."

"You aren't staying till the end?" Colby stares genuinely surprised and confused at his boss and mentor. "Didn't you get in trouble for leaving the last one early?"

"Don't worry, I have it all planned out. No one will even notice my escape…"

"Ok…?"

"Cheer up Col, you're the star today. That was some good work you did finding the primary crime scene and this is your chance now to step up and get noticed for your hard work."

"It was dumb luck though, if Sally hadn't come forward and if Charlie hadn't spotted to her and bought her to me…then we wouldn't have the primary…even that was only found because of the sniffer dogs…" Colby shakes his head and shrugs off Don's compliments. "I didn't really do more than fill out a witness report and run after a couple of dogs."

"Nonsense," Don smiles as he places a hand on Colby's shoulder and gives it a reassuring squeeze. "You've been the one coordinating the case from the beginning. Any accomplishments by the team were the result of your order to pursue that avenue of investigation. I have every confidence in your skill and ability to find Nick's killer…there might even be a promotion for you after this case…at least then something good will have come of all this mess…you might even get my job!"

"Only if you cut out early and piss off the Director again!" Colby chuckles gruffly as he spots Robin and Brandon fighting their way through the press line that seemed to have doubled in the time it had taken Colby to blink. "Ten o'clock," He nods and points in Robin and Brandon's direction, pleased to see the warm smile that breaks through Don's sorrowful mask of pain that he had adopted in recent weeks. "Don't forget to get wired for sound," Colby adds when Don makes a move to throw himself into the chaos of the large throng of reporters clogging up the front of the small stage to make a b-line straight for Robin and Brandon.

"Don't worry, I'll get myself kitted out…I know that my ass will be grass with the Director if I don't!" Don winks at Colby as he ducks under the long shaft of the sound man's boom mic before giving Colby one last sidelong glance as the crowd of people shifts once more, swallowing Don from view.

*Meanwhile*

"Did we really have to take the stairs?" Kyle wheezes breathily as he bends over, hands on knees as if he was about to puke…he still might if his heart didn't stop angrily slamming itself against his rib cage. "They have a lift here you know?" He adds bitterly as Ian smirks, walking past Kyle to the buildings edge, he hadn't even broken out in sweat.

"You know, you used to be a lot fitter," Ian chastises gently as he drops the large case he had grabbed from the boot of his old jeep at his feet and kneels down to open it up.

"And you've always been a sadistic a-hole," Kyle replies waspishly as his heart beat finally begins to slow back to normal.

Sighing, Ian stops fiddling with the cases solid locks to level a measured stare of distain at Kyle making Kyle shiver nervously. "We just convinced this entire building that there is a fire in their server room…it would have been a little suspicious on their security system to see two firefighters using the lift, don't you think?"

"Fine!" Kyle admits reluctantly as he stands up straight, finally in control of his body once more as he begins stripping off his thick, heavy firefighter's jacket, gloves and helmet before joining Ian's side to examine the case's contents properly. "Wow-ee," Kyle whistles appreciatively as Ian grabs the contents and begins building the rifle with both speed and ease.

"Why don't you go check on the progress below?" Ian suggests irritably as he stops building the rifle long enough to shove a pair of binoculars in Kyle's hands.

"Of course," Kyle nods as he slips away from Ian's side to check out their target across the street. "They have the stage set up already," Kyle reports over his shoulder before taking another long look. "They must be close to starting. Ian! You should see the crowd of reporters! This is going to be the biggest assassination since JFK!"

"You know they caught the shooter of JFK right?" Ian replies derisively as he joins Kyle at the roof's edge, rifle prepped and ready.

"Or did they!" Kyle grins as he holds the binoculars out for Ian to take a look. "Besides, PR has you covered you know that. Your name won't even make it to the suspect list…so long as you hold up your end of the bargain…can you see him?"

"No," Ian frowns hard against the lens as he scans back and forth through the crowd of spectators that was now swarming the base of the stage. "But he's down there."

"Then you had best get ready," Kyle orders before stepping back from the ledge to retrieve his firefighter's jacket. Now that his body had recovered from the long slog up thirty flights of stairs, it was actually quite cold on the roof, not that Ian showed an ounce of discomfort as the wind rose up and battered against them. "The wind won't be a problem will it?" Kyle asks worriedly as he casts a glance up at the thick blanket of stormy black clouds choking the sky above, promising yet another buffeting of hard rain.

"Don't worry about me," Ian smiles weakly, a hint of sadness at the task ahead marring his perfect features. "I never miss."

*Back at the Conference*

"Judge Brookes? Judge Brookes! I think that was Judge Robin Brookes!"

"Mom, I think you're being called…"

"Just keep your head down Bran, we have nothing to say to reporters," Robin frowns disapprovingly as she ushers Brandon closer to the stage, where she had spotted Don and Colby only moments before. "Now where's he gone?" She grumbles as her purse begins to vibrate whilst the quite tones of Idina Menzel's 'Let It Go' starts playing softly, catching the attention of a few curious on lookers whilst Brandon burst into uncontrollable laughter, snorting at Robin's face as she begins digging furiously in her purse for her phone. "Who changed my ring tone!" Robin demands furiously as her phone stops ringing and flashes instead to indicate the presence of a new message in her voicemail.

"Marc thought it would make Gracie giggle," Brandon sniggers, not apologetic at all.

"Well you're changing it back!" She almost growls as she groans at the voicemail's content. She was supposed to be at work but had cut out early because Don had insisted on going to lunch and bringing Brandon along so that they could treat their son for improving his grades and getting an A on his physics test. Which was great and all but Robin was just a little bit busy right now to be flitting off to lunch on a whim. Truth is, she only said yes because Don ploughed her with wine and then finally worn her down later in bed.

"There's dad, over there," Brandon grins, still laughing as he points through the crowd at Don who is being fitted for a microphone.

"Ok, you go tell your dad we are here and that we got held up because of that fire opposite. I just need to make a couple calls and then I will be right there."

"Ok…take your time," Brandon shrugs noncommittally, suddenly serious and shifty looking, but Robin is too busy scrolling through her contact list to notice.

"I'll be five mins," Robin replies slowly as she hits the dial button and lifts the phone to her ear but as she looks around her Brandon is already gone, leaving Robin alone in the busy crowd.

*Meanwhile across the Street*

"I don't like it! The press conference should have started already!" Kyle prattles nervously as he paces back and forth whilst Ian sits peacefully ignoring him. "Well?" Kyle demands angrily as he passes Ian and snatches up the binoculars to look at the ground below. "Why haven't they started yet?"

"Do I look like a clairvoyant? It starts when it starts," Ian replies bitingly, an edge of annoyance pulsing at his temple, though it was unclear to Kyle if it was because of the delay or because of his anxious ramblings. "It'll start when it starts. Just be ready for it when it comes."

"That was very philosophical," Kyle states sarcastically as he bangs the binoculars back on the wall next to Ian's rifle. "Don't you worry I'm ready for it… _are you_?"

"This isn't my first rodeo Kyle. I used to do this for a living you know."

"Sure…in Afghanistan. Shooting insurgents is a little different from shooting an old friend in cold blood."

"Are you trying to talk me out of taking the shot?" Ian asks calmly, arching his eyebrow in mock surprise. "I thought you said that Management couldn't be happier at my proposal?"

"And they are…it's me who is questioning your commitment."

"Well don't. I'm committed alright…in about ten minutes you'll see just how committed. Once the deed is done you'll be my handler Kyle…at the moment hitching my wagon to yours is the only _commitment_ that I am questioning. Now shut up and hold tight…I need to concentrate."

"You realize that in that little speech you both told me I'm in charge and to shut up in the same sentence?" Kyle pouts annoyed as he folds his arms and watches the people below. Standing there, watching them all like tiny ants…he felt powerful. It may be Ian holding the gun but Kyle was the one who had brought Ian Edgerton into the fold. Play his cards right and there could be a promotion in Kyle's future. So sting as Ian's remarks might have, he bites his tongue from saying more and waits patiently for the moment his life changes forever.

*At the Press Conference*

"Ready?" Colby smiles uneasily as both he and Don take their seats on the small stage to the left of the podium.

"As I'll ever be…" Don nods uncomfortably as he pulls at the collar of his shirt, his fingers itching to loosen the tie.

"Leave it be," The Director frowns disapprovingly from the other side of Colby as their public relations officer finishes welcoming the crowd. "You're on in a second!"

"…So without further ado, SAIC Don Eppes!" Michele, gestures at Don as both the crowd and the air rumbles with applause.

"Thank you Michele," Don smiles a small strained smile as he steps forward and stands uneasily on the mark in front of the small podium. "I would like to start off by thanking you all for coming out today…" He coughs to clear his throat as a flash of lightening illuminates the stage with a startling ferocity. "Five days ago on these very steps I discovered the body of Assistant Director Nick Callaghan…and today I am pleased to announce that due to the coming forward of a witness we are now another step closer to catching the party responsible!" Pausing for dramatic effect Don surveys the crowd, drowning them with a small, serious, determined smile. "This would not have been possible without the great leadership of Special Agent Colby Granger, whose fearless leadership I have no doubt will bring this case to a swift and certain resolution…"

*Across the Street*

"What are you waiting for? Take the shot!" Kyle practically screams at Ian as he watches Don nervously fidgeting at the podium turn behind him and point at Agent Granger, gesturing for him to join Don at the podium. "He's going to finish talking any second now! Take the fucking-"

The crack and bang of the rifle was as quick and swift as the crowd's instant confusion as SAIC Don Eppes presses a hand to his chest, blood spilling out through the cracks in his fingers.

"Done," Ian states flatly as he begins dismantling the rifle and fitting the pieces back into their slots in the metal case's foam interior.

"He isn't dead yet," Kyle frowns as his view of Don is obscured by the back of Colby who was currently trying his hardest to pull Don's youngest son away from the carnage. Feeling no sympathy, Kyle pulls his phone from his pocket and dials the number for Agent Finn. "Is it done?" He asks hurriedly when the other line finally connects.

"SAIC Don Eppes is dead," Agent Finn confirms grimly, his reassurance coming loud and clear out of the mess of shouts and screams from the crowd below.

Hanging up, Kyle turns to regard Ian, the master of masking his feelings. "It's done."

"I said it was," Ian confirms calmly as the first spits of rain splash down from the openly weeping sky. If Kyle had seen right, there was a definite edge to Ian's usual cocky smile as he ignores the heavy rain and walks back over to the roof's open stairwell. "We done here?"

"We definitely are done here," Kyle grins evilly as he moves over to Ian's side giving him a congratulatory clap on the shoulder. "Welcome to the family."


	8. Chapter 8

**8**

 _*_ _According to my instructor, in the event of a firefight my best course of action is to get into a fetal position and call for my mama. –Charlie Eppes_

 _Season 4, Episode 14: Checkmate*_

*Hours Later*

Hugging the wall for support, Colby makes his way slowly from the autopsy room to the men's toilet. After the shot...when Don fell...Colby had insisted upon traveling in the back of the ambulance with him to the morgue but the paramedics had refused all passengers including Brandon, who Colby had needed to pull back from Don's body to let the paramedics do their job in the first place. They were supposed to have saved him...not announce his death.

Robin and Brandon had been inconsolable since and yet somehow Colby had managed to console them. He had stood up tall and helped them. He had driven them to the morgue and he had sat with them, sipping endless cups of coffee after endless cups of coffee until eventually both Colby and Claudia had tried to convince them to go home. _"He stayed for Nick! I'm staying for him!"_ Robin had shouted viciously as her small fists pummelled his broad chest.

That was when Charlie had turned up, disbelief and an unspoken question in his eyes. _It's true_ , Colby sent back telepathically although he gathered that Charlie read the truth from his grim expression and Robin's tears rather than his mind. _"Take them home,"_ Colby had somehow managed to squeeze past his gritted teeth. _"I'll stay with Don."_

 _"Sure,"_ Charlie had nodded as he eyed the autopsy room warily, he had his own demons to battle with and Colby could sense Charlie's relief that he wasn't going to have to do that here, with the shell of his brother separated from him by a thick door.

Now alone, Colby could feel his strength draining from him steadily as he continues to hug the wall for support as he makes his slow march to the men's toilets, avoiding the looks of surprise and concern from those he passes on his journey.

 _Fuck,_ that was all he could think, _fuck_...as he pushed his way into the small bathroom and looked at the stranger looking back at him in the mirror. There was blood splatter on his face, shirt and tie and his skin was deathly pale. He looked like a corpse himself and Colby couldn't help but grimace at the irony of it all as he reaches forward for the tap about to try and scrub the blood off.

"Stop!" Liz shouts suddenly as she bursts her way into the small bathroom, her soft looking hair and sweet perfume at odds under the harsh florescent lighting of the men's toilets. In his current hazy frame of mind, Colby thought he might have imagined her but there was no mistaking the red rimmed eyes and blotchy nose, she had been crying, no sobbing and Colby was sure that if she was an apparition his imagination wouldn't have marred her perfect beauty or her reassuring solidness in any way.

"What?" He asks confused as ignoring him she pushes past him to the sink and turns the tap off.

"The CSI's have been looking for you…they need to take photographs, they want to collect your clothes…and…and they need a statement from you," She explains softly as she gently chastises him for running off to the morgue in the first place. "I'm here to take you to the lab." She adds sympathetically, her voice hitching at his sudden proximity.

"I promised Robin I wouldn't leave Don…" He whispers quietly as he closes the distance between them by another inch, his eyes searching hers.

"There is nothing you can do for him _here_ ," Liz stresses the 'here' as she takes his large hand in hers despite the blood stains and gives him a weak smile. "But you can help him back at the lab."

"Ok," Colby nods hard, as if finally snapping back to attention. "But I need to make a phone call first."

"Can't it wait?" She asks confused as Colby pulls his hand free before digging in his jacket pocket for his phone. "Who are you calling?" She adds a little impatiently than intended but Colby doesn't hear as he punches in a familiar number, the one number that can make all of this better…well the one number that he trusted to give him answers anyway.

"I'm calling Ian," Colby states firmly, like she was crazy for even needing to ask. "Don was taken out by a sniper. Ian is the only one who can help sort this mess out…to bring Don's shooter to justice…to help me understand just what the _fuck_ is going on here. _First Nick and now Don?"_ Colby was aware that he was shouting but it was like something had broken in him and he couldn't keep his cool anymore. "Don's been distant since he stayed the night here with Nick and I don't think it's just grief anymore. There is a piece missing from this puzzle and I'm going to find out what it is! First I'm calling Edgerton because if there is anyone who can help it's him! I just hope he can get here fast."

"Last I heard he was chasing some fugitive in the mountains of Virginia," Liz adds unhelpfully making Colby frown as he presses the green dial button and holds the phone to his ear.

"Edgerton," A deep voice answers after a few rings; he sounded surprisingly alert considering it was after midnight, but that was Ian for you.

"Ian, its Col…we…we need to talk…its Don…he's…he's _dead_ …" On the word 'dead' Colby feels the last of his strength sap from his bones as he slides down the wall to the floor, tears streaming down his face in red streaks.

Dropping down beside him, hugging him to her chest, Liz takes the phone from Colby's grasp and puts it to her ear. "What did you say?" She hears Ian's confused and reassuring voice warming her ear as she fights back the urge to sob with Colby.

"It's Don," Liz explains quietly, cutting across Ian as she hugs Colby closer to her. "He's dead. Come quickly."

"I'm leaving right now," Ian tells her reassuringly, his tone mixed with confusion and horror. "I'll be there in twenty four hours…and Liz…we'll find who did this…I promise."

*Meanwhile across Town*

Moving slowly so as not to wake his sleeping niece, Charlie cradles Gracie's tear stained face closer against his solid chest as he makes his gradual assent to her room on the second floor. Breaking the news to Don's kids…to his own son Dylan…was the hardest thing that Charlie had ever done in his life. Harder than breaking the news about his father had been because then he'd had Don to blame. Who was there to blame this time?

That anger, when his father had died…that was what had kept him going…he'd held it to his chest, nurtured it like it was a small child. Two whole years he had held on to that grudge. Two whole years he could have spent with his brother. That was why Don's death was harder…there was no anger there simmering gently beneath his chest this time...all that anger was gone now…all Charlie had left was a quiet gut wrenching pain and shame, lots and lots of shame.

Shame for how badly he had treated Don for something that deep down Charlie knew had been his father's choice and shame for running from the autopsy room like a coward. When their father had died…when Nick had died…Don had been there with them. But when Don dies? Charlie does what? He runs like a scared child…he should have stayed, he knew it in his heart and yet he had taken Robin's shaking frame and he had helped Brandon hustle her away from the Morgue.

Some would say that giving the terrible news to the kids would be harder than staying at the morgue…but as hard as it was, Charlie preferred it. It was easier to face them than to face Don's lifeless corpse. Charlie's only comfort was the hope that Don would rather Charlie watch over Don's grieving family than spend a night in a cold autopsy room keeping the dead company whilst the living continued to suffer alone.

 _Shit!_ He thought miserably as he manoeuvred his way into Gracie's room and laid her small body down on the bed to rest. _Why does everything have to be so messed up?_ He had only just gotten his brother back…to now loose him again…with so many unanswered questions, with so much left to say…like sorry…and I forgive you…

"Uncle Charlie?"

"Yes sweetie?"

"Why did daddy have to die?"

"I told you sweetie…a very bad man took him from us…your father…he didn't want to leave you…he loved you very much," Charlie whispers softly, his words an agonizing rasp in his throat as he pauses to consider what to say next. What comfort could he really give Gracie? The world…their world was changing…there was no warmth or comfort in this new world…how could he expect a five year old to understand and accept that…. _where do we go on from here?_

"Will I get to say goodbye to him?" Gracie's small voice quivers as her face scrunches up in a frown as she struggles to accept Charlie's words.

"Yes," Charlie nods silently, "At his funeral you will get to say goodbye to him."

"That's what daddy said about uncle Nicky…but we haven't said goodbye to him yet." Gracie grumbles with as much anger as a five year old who thinks she's being lied to can muster.

"Honey," Charlie sighs sadly as he brushes her hair from her eyes which were quickly filling up with fresh tears, "Both your uncle Nicky and your father…they were taken by very bad people…the police, the men your daddy worked with…they are going to catch those men and whilst they do they need to hold on to your daddy and uncle Nicky…as soon as they release the body…we will hold the grandest of funerals and you will get to say goodbye, ok?"

"Ok," She sighs sadly as she bravely holds back her tears to sit up and give Charlie a kiss on his own tear stained cheek. "Goodnight Uncle Charlie." She murmurs before falling back against her pillows.

Pulling the covers up over her small body, Charlie leans down and kisses Gracie's forehead. "Goodnight Grace," He whispers before standing up and slowly backing out of the room. As he pulls the door closed he hears a small whisper of _"Goodnight daddy"_ and he feels his heart pinch _._ How was it possible for his heart to break some more? He thought it had already been shattered beyond recognition when Liz had phoned him sobbing…he hadn't realised that there was still a piece left there to smash…

Turning away from Gracie's room, Charlie makes his way down the long hallway to the last room on the right. Don's study still had a soft yellow glow under the door and Charlie was amazed to find Robin still in there after so many hours had passed, but not nearly as surprised as he was to see the destruction of the small study.

"Robin?!" He half asks, half shouts with shock, "Did you do this?" He gestures at the small office that currently looked burgled; there wasn't a drawer or file that hadn't been up ended on the small office's wooden floor.

"It's in here somewhere…it has to be!" Robin shouts back as she continues rooting through Don's filing cabinet, pulling out file after file, checking each cover and then tossing it on the ground when it was not what she was looking for.

"What Robin? What's here somewhere?" Charlie shouts exasperated as he picks his way across the studies cold floor to Robin's side. "What are you looking for that is so important that you abandoned your kids when they needed you most? _What do you need from this office so desperately that you left telling them about Don to me?"_

"The file!" she shouts unhinged. "Nick's file…I gave it to Don and now Don is dead…he promised me!"

"What file? What promise? _Robin_ you're not making any sense!"

"Nick's file," She replies sadly around a heart breaking cry as she chucks the last of the cabinet's files on the ground before collapsing down in the mess of paper sobbing uncontrollably.

"Nick's file?" Charlie asks softly as he drops down beside her and takes her in his arms, cradling her head against his chest.

"Before he died," Robin explains around hiccupped sobs, "Nick gave me a burgundy file to keep safe. He told me to give it to Don if he should…die…"

"You knew Nick was in trouble? Did Don?" It was no wonder Don had looked so pained when Charlie had come to the FBI...why he had acted funny when Charlie had mentioned that burgundy file in the breakout area… _Don was protecting Robin…protecting him…just as he always had…he'd had no idea…_

"Don didn't know till I gave him the file. I didn't tell him about it before Nick died because I didn't want Don getting involved…I wish…I wish I never had…he promised me. He told me he would be careful…that he wasn't going anywhere…that I was stuck with him!"

"Oh Rob…"

"No don't!" Don't call me that… _oh God Charlie_ …what am I going to do without him?"

"Did you ever look in the file?"

"No! I didn't want to!"

"Then we are going to find it," Charlie tells her more confidently that he feels. "And then I am going to help Colby find who killed my brother."

"And kill him."

"Robin?"

"Tell Colby…whoever did this to us… _I want them to_ _pay_."

*Meanwhile in Downtown LA*

"Edgerton."

"Ian, its Col…we…we need to talk…its Don…he's…he's _dead_ …" Colby's rough voice rasps down the line in patches, scratching at Ian's ear.

"What did you say?" Ian asks calmly, ignoring the sudden spike in heart rate as his pulse leaps to his throat.

"It's Don, he's dead," Liz's anguished voice cuts across him. "Come quickly."

"I'm leaving right now," Ian tells her reassuringly as he mixes his tone with confusion and horror. "I'll be there in twenty four hours…and Liz…we'll find who did this…I promise." Hanging up the phone Ian stares passively across the room before getting up and moving over to the motel room's grotty bathroom doorway. "Everything is in place…we go ahead as planned."

"Just as you predicted…"

"Yes just as I predicted…but this mission…"

"Was _necessary_ …you said so yourself, we go ahead as planned. Don't go getting a conscience on me."

"I know it's just…I hurt a lot of people today…doesn't that bother you?" Ian scrubs hard at his face as the day's events finally sink in. "Colby and Liz's voices on the phone just now…I hate to think what Charlie and Robin are going through…and their kids!"

"You knew this would be hard! Tell me you aren't backing out!"

"No."

"Good! Then go. You have an investigation to start."

"I just…"

"No. You started this. This was _your_ plan. Go get ready to meet Colby and Liz."

"…"

"Oh…and Ian."

"Yes."

"Don't fuck it up. We've gone too far for you to ruin it. There is no going back now."

"You don't need to worry about me. You just look after things your end and I'll handle things mine." Ian replies gruffly as he grabs his kit and walks out of the motel room into the gloom of the night.

"Agent Edgerton."

"Lt Walker?" Ian replies surprised as he stops abruptly in front of his jeep, where Lt Walker was currently leaning. "Fancy meeting you here…"

"I thought this was your jeep."

"Would have been funny if you'd have been wrong," Ian smiles guardedly when the Lt doesn't move out of the way. "How's the gang unit treating you these days Gary?"

"The same as always, someone dies, a gang war starts…I hear from Kyle that you've had an interesting day yourself," Lt Gary Walker grins as Ian looks back at the motel room uncomfortable.

"You're PR?"

"We should talk," Gary gestures at the jeep before moving around to the passenger side. "Get in."


	9. Chapter 9

**9**

 _*"Anyone else following this?" – Ian Edgerton._

" _You just nod your head and wait for the punchline." – Colby Granger._

 _Season three, Episode 2: Two Daughters*_

*The Same Night*

Ignoring the increase in heartbeat and the pricks of sweat on his forehead, Ian keeps his hands steady on the steering wheel as Lt Gary Walker takes his time rolling out and lighting a cigarette.

"We're here," Ian explains calmly, careful to keep his tone unaffected as he turns the ignition off and lowers his hands to his lap.

"That's good," Lt Walker grins as he leans his arm out of the jeep's passenger window to give the cigarette a gentle tap to dispose of the ash.

"What's next?" Ian replies testily, narrowly keeping the frown off his face as he stretches his hands out casually across the long length of his thighs to his knees, his slender fingers within easy reach of a Glock that he had duck taped to the underside of the steering wheel, just in case.

"Grab the file and follow me." Getting out of the jeep Lt Walker turns back around and leans in through the open window. "Oh…and leave the gun. We're all friends here. _Right Ian?"_

"Right Gary," Ian forces a smile as he pulls his hands back and reaches over to the glove compartment for the burgundy file that he had stashed there earlier.

"Got it? Good, this way."

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see when we get there. You did good today Edgerton. You made a promise and you kept it…well you've almost kept it, just one last mess to clear up." Gary rasps, as he looks pointedly at the file in Ian's firm grasp. "Tell me…how did it feel?" Gary adds thoughtfully after a moment, so quietly that Ian almost missed the question as Lt Walker's gravelly words are swept up by the strong wind and quickly whipped away.

"How did what feel?" Ian asks confused as he follows Lt Walker down a rutted lane to a small wooden fence at the edge of a thick forest.

"Taking the shot…" Gary grins wickedly. "…killing Don," he adds when it looks like Ian is still unclear of the question.

Pausing to consider, Ian looks up at the night's sky for answers. The stars above him are so clear and shining brightly that they seem to wink conspiritably at him as he tears his gaze away from the heavens and back to Walkers old wrinkled face.

"Exhilarating." He answers truthfully.

To be completely candid Ian had thought it would be harder than it had been, but amongst the chaos, the pressure and the tension…there had been a confidence, he was Ian Edgerton, number three shot in the country after all and he had known he wouldn't miss his target.

"You didn't reconsider? Not even once?" Gary probes gently, a smile of admiration pulling at the corners of his weathered lips. "Can you really be as ruthless as they say you are Agent Edgerton?"

"I have a job to do and I get it done," Ian replies impatiently as he walks up close to Lt Walker's side and smiles wolfishly. "That doesn't make me ruthless, it makes me efficient."

"Indeed!" Lt Walker laughs hoarsely as he takes another quick puff on his cigarette before chucking it to the ground and stomping it out.

"I have to say I'm surprised to be having this conversation with you Gary," Ian muses as he walks past Lt Walker to lean carefree against the wooden fence. "Not because I'm surprised that you're a corrupt cop…that's like the worse kept secret in Hollywood…no I'm surprised because Kyle told me that he would be my handler with PR. Are you here to take his place? Or just to roll out the welcome wagon?"

"Ahhh, Kyle, Kyle, Kyle…Kyle has ambitions that are far above where he can realistically go," Walker smiles as he moves over to the fence next to Ian. "You Ian are considered by the board of directors to be a whale of a prize. Kyle is unfortunately a tiny minion punching above his weight where you are concerned. He is like a three and you Ian are a ten. Our dreams for you far exceed any that Kyle, a mere peasant in your company, can possibly go."

"Flattery doesn't work with me Lieutenant."

"No because you are direct, focused and to the point. You Ian are a loaded gun, the sharp edge of a knife…a survivalist…a natural born killer…or as you put it, a very _efficient_ tool to be used. With your help we can accomplish so much more than we ever dreamed!"

"I'm not here to be sold on the cause Lieutenant. I'm only concerned with securing my career after the FBI."

"One little task left to go and that future is secure," Gary looks pointedly at the file once more. "Destroy the file and your little "initiation" is complete."

"And then we start talking bigger picture?" Ian asks sternly as he looks around him and spots a small rusted bucket along the path a bit, discarded in the overgrown grass.

"You have my word."

Nodding, Ian retrieves the bucket and drops the file inside before placing it at Walker's feet. "Your matches please."

"First I want to check the file."

"Go ahead," Ian smiles wryly as he gestures for Lt Walker to be his guest.

Picking up the file, Walker sifts through the thick file, pausing occasionally to read the odd page. "Incredible," Gary whispers entranced when he finally reaches the last document. "Nick had enough here to wage war on PR, he could have ruined years of hard work and planning."

"Then you're lucky Don bought it to someone with more…vision…than either he or Nick had."

"Indeed!" Gary smiles warmly as he reaches down and drops the file back in the bucket with a heavy thud. "Finish it."

"I prefer to think of it as starting it," Ian corrects Walker as he takes the box of matches out of Gary's wrinkled grasp before lighting a match and dropping both it and the box into the bucket. "To the beginning of a prosperous future," Ian smiles warmly as the light of the fire flickers menacingly across his wolfish grin.

*The Next Morning*

Rubbing his eyes hard with the heel of his hands, Brandon moves stiltedly down the hallway from his bedroom to his father's study. "Uncle Charlie?" He asks confused as he finishes rubbing sleep from his eyes enough to see the chaos of the office before him. "What are you doing?"

"Sorry Bran," Charlie replies hastily as he picks up a new file and adds it to one of three tall piles. "Your mother was looking for something last night and got a little carried away…"

"Mom did this?"

"Yeah, listen mate...I'm going to be heading to the FBI soon to coordinate with Colby and the team…can you and your brother stay here and look after your mom and Gracie for me? I've called your gran but I think it's important you all stay together today."

"Sure…"

"Thank you Brandon," Charlie replies gratefully as he scrubs his face tiredly.

"Uncle Charlie…did you sleep at all last night?"

"Honestly…no…your father and I left a lot unresolved…like this file apparently."

"Is that what mom was looking for?" Bran asks quickly, before he can talk himself out of asking. "A file?"

"Yes, your dad had a case file…it had a burgundy cover, but now it can't be found. Have you seen anything like that?"

"No…try his office at work maybe? Or in his car maybe?" Bran suggests hastily, quick to offer places to search.

"I tried the car earlier," Charlie replies distractedly, not seeing the panicked shift in Brandon's stance from curious to defensive. "I will try his office when I get to the FBI later."

"Was it a really important file then?"

"I think it could hold answers…closure for your mother at least."

"Uncle Charlie…"

"Yes?"

"I'm scared."

"I'm scared too," Charlie smiles wistfully as he stands up and gestures for Brandon to come closer.

"I didn't think adults got scared," Brandon voice trembles a little as he enters the room to stand by his uncle's side.

"Sometimes we do…Brandon, your mom tells me that your dad was acting strange before he died…did you notice him acting strange at all?"

"Naw, he was just really busy."

"I hear he took you to your grandpa's grave."

"That's right."

"Did you know that he hadn't been there since we buried him?" Charlie asks quietly, a far off look in his eyes as he places a reassuring hand on Brandon's shoulder.

"He said something about it…I think he felt guilty," Brandon looks at his feet as he hugs his arms tightly against his chest.

"He did," Charlie sighs sadly as he looks down at his young nephew. "Because I made him feel guilty. I wish I could tell him that I was wrong…that I am sorry."

"I think he knows," Brandon shifts awkwardly as he wriggles free of Charlie's grasp. "I should really go check on Gracie."

"Yes," Charlie nods hard as if breaking free of some unseen reverie. "I won't be much longer up here; I'll come and find you before I leave."

"Ok," Brandon nods himself before heading over to the door where he pauses for a moment and turns back to look at Charlie who has started putting the first pile of files into the open filing cabinet. "Uncle Charlie?"

"Yes?"

"It's going to be ok."

"What is?"

"Everything…I have every faith that you will find who did this and when you do things will go back to normal. You'll see."

"I really hope so Bran, I really hope so," Charlie smiles wistfully once more as Brandon leaves the study to pad back down the hallway to Gracie's room.

*Across Town*

Sitting quietly in the dark of the locker room, the weight of the world on her shoulders, CSI Samantha Wilkes stifles a yawn as she prepares herself mentally for the twelve hour shift to come. Only twenty four hours had passed since Don's death and Samantha had been working for most of them. First the scene and then Colby once Liz had managed to track him down. Yesterday had been all about collecting evidence today was about working it and after producing so few useable leads with Nick's case Samantha was adamant that Don's case would be different. It had to be, she had promised Colby as much last night.

"Sam?"

"Yes?"

"James needs to see you in his office."

"Thank you Connie," Samantha sighs tiredly, "I'll be right there."

Standing up and stretching out the kinks, Sam grabs her kit from her locker and follows Connie out to CSI James Knolls's office, who is sat behind his desk waiting, an open case box in front of him.

"Sir?" Sam asks worriedly as she places her heavy tool kit down by the door and moves further into the room.

"Sam, have a seat…we need to talk."

"About what?" She asks confused, unable to keep the note of dread out of her voice as she recognises her handwriting on the side of the box and reads the case number. "Is that Don's case box?"

"I decided to make a start on analysing the evidence this morning," James explains, his expression grave as he regards her over the top of the box. "But when I did I found that certain pieces of evidence are missing."

"That can't be possible!" Samantha replies afraid as she starts rummaging desperately around in the box, but James was right…there were pieces missing. "Where's the bullet? And Don's shirt? Where is any of the evidence brought over from the morgue?"

"That is what I would like to know," James replies tersely as he stands up and pulls the evidence log sheet off of the box's lid.

"You can't think…"

"What that you lost them? Or that you took them? Tell me Sam, what exactly can't I think? The log clearly shows that you were the last one here, Connie checked the box, and yours are the only prints on it. Hell Sam, you are the only one who has handled the evidence since it arrived in the lab."

"It was all there when I left last night, check out CCTV footage, you'll see!"

"We did Sam. The only thing visible on the tape is you taking the box into the camera's blind spot.

"Sir! I didn't tamper with evidence!"

"I'm sorry Sam, my hands are tied. You are suspended pending further investigation."

"But the evidence! It can't have just gone missing," Samantha paces angrily. "It has to be here somewhere! Perhaps a techie took it to start analysing the evidence. Has anyone checked the ballistics lab?"

"You think we haven't checked?" James crosses his arms annoyed as Sam stops pacing long enough to level a glare at her boss and supervisor. "It's too fucking late Sam…" He growls angrily as he hits the box hard, sending the box and its contents, as well as half his desk, clattering across the stone tiled floor. " _You know it doesn't matter anymore._ "

" _Sir!_ It has to be here; in one of the labs maybe…it can't be too late! I don't accept that! _"_

"The chain of custody has been broken Samantha. It's too fucking late. Even if the evidence did turn up it would be inadmissible in court!"

"No…"

" _Sam!_ Go home. That's an order."

"But…"

"I said get out of my sight!" James bellows fearfully making Sam flinch.

"I don't know where that evidence went," Samantha whispers angrily as she moves over to the door and grabs her tool kit, "But I will make this clear now sir, I won't rest until I find out who took it and make them pay."

"If I see you in this building again until I tell you that you can, I'll be doing more than suspending you. Do _I_ make myself clear?"

"Perfectly."

"Good. Leave your kit here, you won't be needing it."

"This isn't over," Samantha growls angrily as she drops the kit back down and storms out of the office, slamming the heavy door angrily behind her, shattering the glass on impact.

*At the FBI Building*

Ian Edgerton had been in many war zones in his lifetime, chased fugitives all over the world and seen more combat than he could have ever wished to see, but nothing could prepare him for the wounded greeting he received upon entering the FBI building. There was a silent emptiness of activity and it unnerved him more than he was willing to admit.

As a sniper, he had an unusual and unique intimate perspective of death; more so than many realised, but being a sniper also afforded Ian the ability of anonymity and invisibility. As he had explained to Lt Walker, he wasn't ruthless, just efficient. Get in, do the job and get out again. That was his philosophy. Not stick around after and offer to help front the investigation into his latest job and definitely not to help reassure and pick up the loved ones of the person he had just assassinated.

Watching them now from across the open planned office, Ian couldn't associate the agents he knew, who were usually so full of energy and purpose, with the ones he could see now walking around like an army of zombies unsure on how to respond to watching their general just die before them. It was surreal and shameful and for the first time in his life, Ian Edgerton felt a gut wrenching, burning sensation in his stomach that bared an uncanny resemblance to guilt. Who'd have known that he, Ian Edgerton was even capable? He hadn't.

"Ian, thank god you're here!" The relief in Colby's voice was like yet another dagger to the gut and had Ian questioning himself for the first time since Afghanistan. It was a strange sensation that he neither liked nor wanted to repeat. "I wasn't sure you'd come…I certainly hadn't expected you so soon!"

"It's for Don, I came as quick as I could. Col...what happened?"

"Don was shot…I was…he was…"

"It's ok, let's go and get a coffee and you can tell me about it in the breakout room." Taking Colby by the elbow, Ian steers Colby into the small canteen next to the bull pen. In the past he, Colby and Don had shared many a coffee in this breakout area when working a case together as colleagues…as friends…

Taking a deep breath Ian shakes his head and stops his mind in its tracks before it can fully venture into unwanted territory. _Focus Edgerton, it's just like any other job!_ Only it wasn't just like any other job. Sure he had done the whole undercover thing before, but then there had been clear line between who were the good guys and who were the bad…there was no clear line now and Ian was surprised that it bothered him so much…

"Sorry…I know I'm a mess right now…but Ian…it was…"

"Horrible…I know…I saw the footage on the news at one of the gas stations I passed through..."

"I was right there next to him…but I couldn't save him…"

"There was nothing you could have done differently Col…you need to stop yourself from going down that road. 'What if' is a very dangerous and lonely path…a path that only ends at the bottom of a dozen or so beers…I know, I've been there."

"The war left scars on us all…" Colby whispers sadly as he picks up the coffee Ian hands him and blows raggedly across the top of the mug to cool it down. "But we aren't in Afghanistan Ian, Nick and Don died in our front yard. This can only end one way now."

"Col…"

"No Ian. You know it has to be this way. Whoever did this has waged war on the FBI, on this team, as soon as I find out who; I'm putting a bullet between his eyes."

"…"

"Sorry," Colby interrupts as his phone starts ringing before Ian can find the right words to reply, "Its Samantha from the CSI lab, I need to take this."

"Go for it."

"Sam! What do you have for me?" Colby asks as he leaves the small canteen, abandoning Ian and his coffee.

"Ian," Charlie greets warmly as he enters the room, heading straight for the coffee machine. "When did you get here?"

"About ten minutes ago…Charlie…I'm so sorry…"

"It's ok. _I'm fine_."

"You really are aren't you…but…?"

"But how am I not some nervous wreck at home in my garage trying to solve P vs NP?"

"Well…yeah!"

"Someone just killed my brother…until I know who…I don't think I can grieve…does that make me a terrible brother?" Charlie whispers quietly as he warms his hands on a small mug of coffee scripted 'Geek Squad'.

"You're in shock…perhaps you should go home?"

"Probably…"

"But you won't?"

" _No_ … _I won't_."

"Then we should get to work!" Ian claps his hands together as he stands up. "Where shall we start?"

"How about where the shooter shot my brother?"

"Great, let's go outside and look at the angles."

"No need, I've already found it."

"You have?" Ian asks cautiously as he fights to keep his face impassive. "Where?"

"There was a building across the road, had a fire alarm trip when a server caught fire. I did the maths and it's most probable that the shooter took advantage of the chaos and slipped in unnoticed. We should get over there and check out the roof."

"The roof? Why there? Couldn't the killer have been on any of the floors, we'll need to set up a search…?"

"No need, it was the roof. I did a calculation based on the height of the camera, and the angle of the bullet based on footage at the scene…basically it can only have come from the roof."

"You work fast professor."

"Thank you. Now let's go. We have a murderer to catch."

*Across Town*

Pulling his hockey stick back quickly, Marc Eppes fires puck after puck at the upturned trashcan at the end of the long drive, not even bothering to stop and check if he had hit the target. His accuracy wasn't the focus here; working out his anger was…because Marc was angry…he was furious at himself…he couldn't remember what the last thing he had said to his dad was and the anger was burning him up inside.

After the news of Uncle Nick, when their father had started acting withdrawn and cagey, Marc had decided to put some distance between the two of them to focus on hockey and his school work. If Marc was ever going to make it to the FBI academy and make his father proud he needed to focus. As it turned out, Marc had been focusing so damned hard on himself that now he couldn't even remember what the last conversation with his father had been about…

"GRAHHHH!" Shouting angrily, Marc turns around and lobs his hockey stick across the front lawn, narrowly missing Brandon, who jumps back quickly in surprise.

"HEY! Watch it! You almost hit me!" Brandon shouts incredulously as Marc stomps his way across the lawn until he and Bran are standing practically nose to nose, well almost, Marc was a bout a head taller than his younger brother.

"Where are you sneaking off to eh?" Marc asks non-apologetically as he folds his arms and stares down hard at his brother waiting for an answer.

" _Out_ , what do you care?"

"I care if you're going out to get high with your looser friends when mom and Gracie need us." Marc sneers annoyed, knowing he's being an ass but also being unable to stop himself.

"Well I'm not, so you can back off alright!"

"Not until you tell me where you're going!"

"It's not important."

"Then you don't need to go do you?" Marc smiles cruelly as he grabs his brother's arm and tries to steer him back around towards the house.

"Let go of me!" Brandon shouts angrily as he tries to twist away from his brother's grasp. Marc, however, was spoiling for a fight and wasn't about to back down now. Hooking his leg behind Brandon's Marc tackles his younger brother to the ground and after an initial wrestle and scuffle manages to pin his younger brother beneath him, just as he had managed to pin him a hundred times before when they were growing up.

"Now tell me, where are you going?"

"I need to go check on something for dad…something he wanted me to keep safe."

"Keep what safe? What are you talking about?"

"I can't tell you! Now get-off me!"

"Fine," Marc relents reluctantly, his curiosity getting the best of him as something in Brandon's tone tells him that his little brother wasn't lying. "But I'm driving you there."

"No!"

"It'll be quicker."

"How do you know? It might only be around the block!"

"Is it only around the block?"

"No..."

"Then I'm coming with you."

"Marc…"

"No Bran. I won't budge on this. Dad was acting strangely before he died and now I think about it so were you. So I'm not letting you out of my sight. We've already lost Dad, I'm not letting you die too because you were too knuckle headed to let me give you a lift."

"Marc…"

"Bran?"

"Thank you."

"Hey! No chick flick moments, just get in the car doofus and let me help. Sooner we leave the sooner we can get back." Marc stands up and holds his hand out for his brother, who takes it reluctantly and pulls himself up.

"Ah, mom won't notice. She's practically catatonic…and Gracie's too busy talking to an invisible friend to pay attention to us." Bran shrugs nonchalantly as he dusts himself down.

"Mom and Gracie aren't the ones you should worry about, it's Gran!"

"You're right, we should get going before she stops us… _this is really important Marc."_ Bran practically whines, surprising Marc.

"Then let's get going!" Pulling his keys from his jeans pocket, Marc and Bran head over to Marc's car, a small turquoise Chevy Chevette that he and his grandpa had bought and rebuilt together before Alan had passed away. Pushing aside feelings of anger and grief, Marc does what he does best and focuses on the situation at hand: getting Brandon to his mystery rendezvous. "Where to?"

"Just drive…I'll direct you as you go."

After a long thirty minutes of driving, Marc begins to grow impatient with his little brother. Sure he had been curious about where Bran was sneaking off too and what it had to do with their father, but Brandon had directed him all over town, snaking him this way and that as if fighting off some invisible predator. "We've already come this way!" Marc shouts out angrily as he pulls to a stop at a set of red lights and notices the same Christmas shop that they had already driven past twenty minutes ago.

"We're almost there," Brandon replies quietly as he continues to stare in the rear-view mirror like a man possessed.

"It'd better be," Marc grumbles audibly as he starts the car and takes yet another left at the Christmas store, they were definitely going around in circles.

As another ten minutes drag by, Marc is about to shout enough is enough when Brandon tells him to pull over. They'd finally arrived. Looking around him, Marc can't believe his eyes. "All that and we're at a post office?"

"I need to check on a PO Box, wait here."

"Ah hell no!" Marc shouts angrily as he pulls the keys from the ignition and jumps out of the car. "Forty minutes of driving around in circles and you want me to wait in the car? That isn't how this is gonna go down little brother. You go inside, I go inside. We stick together."

"But…"

"No buts! Now shift your ass. _We_ have a PO Box to check!"

"For fucks sake," Bran grumbles angrily as he leads his way inside, ignoring the receptionist as he moves past into a separate room filled with metal boxes.

"Well?" Marc demands impatiently when Bran halts in front of a particular set of boxes. "Open it up."

"Alright," Bran nods determinedly as he fishes the key out of his pocket and pulls the lid up.

"Is that the file Uncle Charlie was asking about this morning?" Marc asks astonished, his previous anger completely forgotten as Bran lets out an audible sigh of relief. _It was still there. The burgundy file was still there_. _"_ The one that mom was looking for last night…please Bran, tell me that it isn't _that_ file. _Bran?"_

"It's complicated ok…"

"So un-complicate it."

"I can't…I promised," Bran replies anguished as he shuts the box and locks it back up, purposely not meeting his brother incredulous stare.

"Tell me right now or I'm going to Uncle Charlie and something tells me that you don't want me to do that!"

"Fine!" Brandon snaps angrily as he ushers Marc back out of the room of PO Boxes. "But not here. Let's go back to the car first."

Relenting because his interest had won out over his initial anger, Marc heads back for the car and then waits patiently inside for his brother to spill his guts.

"It all started a couple days ago when I noticed that we were being followed…"

*Later That Day*

As the sun begins it's slow decent in the sky, casting a large shadow on an already dark day, CSI James Knolls moves from his small kitchenette to his home study, that was really just a small corner of his living room, being a workaholic with no family meant he didn't need much. Tonight though, the small apartment felt isolated, claustrophobic and stifling. If an apartment could judge his would be screaming its resentment and it made James uncomfortable to feel so adrift in his own home.

"I have control of the case now," He states calmly, despite his racing heartbeat, as he hands over one of the two glasses of whisky that he had just poured out in the tiny kitchenette, a desperate ploy to give himself time to order and arrange his thoughts before having to hash out the difficult conversation ahead with his impatient companion.

"Good."

"Was it really necessary to do that to Samantha?" James adds rashly as he ignores the little voice in his head that tells him not to antagonise his unexpected visitor. "This could ruin her career!"

"She was asking too many questions," His guest shrugs remorselessly; wincing at the pain the small action causes him. "Do you have the evidence?"

"Yes," James nods doubtfully as he grabs his work bag and pulls out the two evidence bags, a bullet and a bloody shirt visible for all to see through the clear wrapping.

"Good. Destroy it." Draining the whiskey in one, James's late night caller gets up and walks out. No goodbyes, no thank yous…shivering with fear James asks himself again just what he had signed up to before draining his own tumbler of whiskey as he moves over to the small fireplace, a perc of having a ground floor apartment, and chucks the evidence bags into the fire.


	10. Chapter 10

**10**

 _*"You – you think I had something to do with this? Are you kidding?" -_ _Victor Borrego_

" _No, I got a whole 'nother kidding face." -_ _Colby Granger_

 _Season 2, Episode 17: Mind Games *_

*The Same Day*

Climbing the staircase slowly, Ian looks back over his shoulder at Charlie who was struggling with the climb at least a flight of stairs below him. "You know we could have taken the elevator," He reminds Charlie sardonically as he pauses to let Charlie catch up.

Wheezing heavily, Charlie just scowls until he reaches the natural bend in the stairwell and can face Ian properly. "We are recreating the killer's path…were you not the one who emphasized the importance of the human element in my equations."

"Well sure," Ian smiles at the memory, "But this is a very tall building and it's taken you thirty minutes just to get half way…"

"So I've already learned that our killers are very fit," Charlie replies stubbornly as he ignores the feeling of lead in his legs and starts climbing again.

"Well…they had stamina I'll give you that much," Ian nods as Charlie reaches the top step and keeps on going straight past him.

"Come on Agent Edgerton, stop lagging behind!"

"Yes sir!" Ian grins as he starts moving again, careful to match his own pace with Charlie's. "You know…if you wanted we could at least use the elevator to get back down…"

"What's wrong Ian, getting tired?" Charlie smiles playfully despite the loss of feeling in his legs and his rapidly beating heart.

"No, I'm just thinking of you! Charlie you look like you haven't slept or eaten in days."

"Well it's the same for you right?" Charlie winces as he rounds the corner once more and sees the level number-only thirteen more flights of stairs to go…

"Well sure…"

"Where was it you drove from again? Virginia?"

"Chicago, I was assisting the ATF to infiltrate a gang moving illegal rifles across the country."

"And they didn't mind you switching to come help us instead?"

"They weren't happy about it…but when I got Colby's call I told them they had no authority in the matter and that I was going."

"Can they manage it still without you?"

"I love that you think of me as indispensable Charlie but the ATF were managing fine before I rocked up and they will manage fine without me. Besides I gave them Marcus Denam's name. They'll be fine."

Continuing the rest of the way in silence, Charlie sighs with relief as they hit the top step and open the door to the roof. "Finally," He smiles at Ian as he breathes in the refreshing cold air.

"You know, after all this you could find that you were wrong and the shooter was on one of the lower levels…if not in another building entirely."

"No, it was from here. The size of the wound, angle of entry and position of the body already told me as much," Charlie lectures Ian as he takes the moment to let his heart rate settle once more.

"Based on news footage, you don't have the exact measurements though."

"Are you questioning my maths Agent Edgerton?" Charlie quirks an eyebrow at Ian curiously. "You've never questioned it before…"

"Of course not…I'm just worried about you!"

"Well don't. Just help me find who did this."

"Ok, let's see what we can find."

After an hour Charlie stops searching and rounds on Ian. "There's nothing here. How can there be nothing here? This is the spot. I factored everything in, wind speed and direction, atmospheric pressure, temperature, humidity, inclination of the gun, density of the projectile…"

"Maybe you just need to step back and think about it again. From this location, he would have to be an expert shot. But I say he was just an ok shot who got lucky."

"Because if you'd bother to get this close, you'd spread the man's brains across the sidewalk."

"What?"

"That's what you told me when we first met," Charlie replies quietly as he stands close to the edge of the roof, looking down on the small podium cordoned off by yellow tape. "But the shooter hit centre mass, a torso shot…killing Don instantly."

"Exactly…"

"Except he was a good shot."

"What do you mean?" Ian asks uncertainly as he moves over to the edge of the roof next to Charlie.

"Closer doesn't mean easier…"

"Eh?"

"You also told me that, closer doesn't mean easier. What is it your always say? Invisibility is a snipers greatest strength. Worry about losing it and his heart rate increases, if he doesn't know how to handle it his breathing rhythm is thrown off…"

"Breathing rhythm…Charlie I'm not following. What does a lecture I gave you on snipers twenty odd years ago have to do with anything?"

"Everything, it has everything to do with it. Sweat getting into the eyes, hands cramping, adrenalin twitching the barrel…you once told me that _that_ was the difference between an expert marksman and a guy who aims at white meat and takes home a wing."

"An analogy I remember you having a problem with-"

"You also once told me that it was your job to put your head inside the mind of a killer, Don's too. Well since working at the FBI that's been my job too. Our shooter was clearly an expert marks man. Yet he didn't take the head shot…why…?"

"Charlie," Ian turns to face him sympathetically, his hand resting gently on Charlie's shoulder. "You need sleep, you're not thinking clearly. You're rushing the maths and looking for connections where there are none. Go home, I'll look around again and then I will sweep every floor of this building if I have too."

"No, _you're_ wrong," Charlie shrugs off Ian's grasp and takes a few steps back. "I'm finally seeing things clearly." Pulling a gun from the small of his back, where he had stashed it earlier whilst tidying Don's study, Charlie holds the gun firmly in both hands and aims it at Ian's chest.

"What are you doing Charlie?" Ian feigns confusion as he attempts to take a step closer.

"Don't move or I will put you down Ian!"

"For what?"

"For shooting my brother!"

"You're crazy; I already told you I was in Chicago!"

"Don't lie to me Ian!" Charlie sobs as he takes another step back. "I told you, I did the maths. Chicago is twenty-nine hours away baring traffic. There is no way you could be here unless you were already here."

"I drove all night, you know that!"

"You're a sniper. You said it yourself: the thing about snipers is that we love it, and that's not a guess either. It's a fact. You shot Don… _why?"_

" _Damn it!"_ Quick as a whip and without even the slightest hesitation Ian pulls his own gun and aims it back at Charlie. "Sometimes you're just too smart for your own good."

*Meanwhile across Town*

Switching off the ignition to his Chevy Chavette, or Mondale as he calls it, Marc sits in stunned silence trying to make sense of Brandon's story in his head.

"Marc?" Brandon asks nervously when his brother doesn't make a move to get out of the car. "You can't tell mom or Uncle Charlie anything I've told you today. You promised me."

"I won't…"

"Then say something…you're worrying me."

"What is there left to say? You just told me that the organisation I've dedicated my entire life to try and be good enough to join is corrupt as shit." Marc frowns angrily out the side window, unable to face his brother. How could Bran possibly understand? It was all too much, he felt anchorless and adrift, the burden of knowing the truth he supposed…

"Marc?"

"Never mind ok," Marc growls harsher than intended as he opens the car door and gets out, Brandon following suit. "Look I need a minute to get this all straight in my head…I'll be in the garage, cover for me with Gran?"

"Of course," Brandon nods a little too energetically as he turns to face the house before turning back to regard his older brother hesitantly.

"What?"

"Nothing…just…thank you," Brandon smiles weakly as he turns away and slowly makes his way up the garden path to the front door.

"Bran…" Marc calls out before Brandon can enter the house.

"Yes?"

"I'm glad you told me. It was wrong of dad to involve you."

"He didn't want to," Brandon shrugs nonchalantly, showing a braver face than Marc could muster. "He kind of had no choice," Brandon adds thoughtfully before turning to stare at the front door uncertainly. "Don't take too long to come in, Gran's probably fretting as is."

"I won't," Marc agrees quietly, hugging his arms against his body as without looking back Brandon disappears inside the house.

Turning around and walking down the driveway to the garage, Marc uses his keys to unlock the door and slip underneath. In truth he didn't know what he was doing, or what he expected to achieve by delaying entering the house, he just knew that he couldn't face his mother knowing what he knew now. So instead he decided to hide in the garage like the child and coward he was and Marc hated himself for it.

Angry, Marc walks over to a picture of him and his dad on a shelf on the back wall. Picking up the small frame, Marc examines the two smiling faces. The picture was taken on Marc's eighteenth birthday. Don had taken him to the firing range for the first time and spent the afternoon patiently teaching Marc how to fire a weapon. Marc had never felt closer to his father as he had in that moment…and now…now they couldn't be further apart.

"What did you get us involved in?" Marc whispers miserably to the photo. "When Bran told me…I thought I understood…but I don't. I need answers." Putting the photo back on the shelf, Marc leaves the garage and gets back in his car. There's only one place Marc can get answers and it wasn't here. _Forgive me Bran,_ he thinks sadly, as he reverses out of the driveway and makes his way back into town.

*Back on the Roof*

"You did it, didn't you!"

"No Charlie, I didn't shoot your brother! But you are right about me being here already. Don called me ok," Ian shouts imploringly as he attempts to take a step closer. "Nick gave him a file, a file so dangerous Don was at a loss for what to do with it. Corruption Charlie. Corruption on such a large scale that Don didn't know which way to turn or who he could trust."

"So he called you."

"Yes," Ian nods vigorously as he inches another step closer to Charlie.

"So you _didn't_ shoot Don?" Charlie asks confused, his grip of the gun shaking as Ian eases closer to him still.

"No," Ian replies gently as he aims his own gun away from Charlie, letting it swing loosely against the flat of his palm as he moves his arms out to the sides in a gesture of surrender. "I loved your brother," Ian smiles tightly as he slowly crouches down and places the gun on the floor before standing back up. "Please Charlie, trust me now as your brother once trusted me. I want to find who did this just as badly as you do."

"Then why don't I believe you?"

"Because you're tired, you're searching for connections where there are no connections."

"That's what you said earlier about this being the spot Don was shot from…but I'm right, it was here I know it was."

"Charlie…"

"You were trying to throw me off then, just like your trying to throw me off now." Stepping back again, Charlie almost topples backwards over the edge of the roof as his legs collide with the small stone wall lining the edge of the roof. "You did it," He shouts desperately as he regains his footing. "I know you did…I just don't understand why? Are you working for the corrupt organisation? Did my brother put his trust in you and you betrayed him?"

"Shoot me and you will never know."

"Lower the gun and I'll never make it off this roof!"

"Look, it's not what you think…" Ian frowns as he regards Charlie's shaking frame shrewdly, _he could toss him over the wall so quick…_

"Then tell me how it is Ian because you wouldn't like what I'm thinking right now!" Charlie growls angrily making Ian hang and shake his head defeated.

There had to be a way that Ian could talk his way out of this…if there was, he had to try, "Yes I shot Don…but I had my reasons."

"REASONS?!" Charlie splutters angrily and confusedly all at once. _Maybe that wasn't the right thing to say…_

"Yes," Ian states firmly as he moves up close to Charlie so that the only thing separating them was the gun. "So before you and Colby make good on your promise and put a bullet between my eyes, I need to show you something."

"I'm not going anywhere with you!"

"Then shoot me," Ian smiles mockingly, he was fairly confident that Charlie couldn't do it. He wasn't a murderer like Ian. "But then the truth dies with me. You'll never understand why."

"How can I trust you? You just admitted you killed my brother!"

"Because of the file. I have it and I can take you to it."

"Fine," Charlie relents, lowering the gun as he slips away to the side, quick to make it to Ian's gun before him. "But I'm keeping the gun. First sign that you're leading me to a trap and I shoot you like the dog you are.

"Seems fair," Ian smiles broadly as he walks past a confused and afraid Charlie to the exit. "Shall we take the stairs? Or the elevator?"

*Back across Town*

Walking slowly so as to take stock of his surroundings Colby nervously approaches the Echo Park Lake Bridge with trepidation, for a private meeting it all felt so…exposed.

"Ok, you got me here…now tell me why," Colby states numbly as he leans on the bridge's rail and looks out on the parks natural beauty.

"I told you on the phone," Samantha chides angrily as she leans her back against the rail about a foot away. In her running gear and baseball cap she looked like any other runner in the park, taking a moment to rest and rehydrate. "The evidence Claudia sent over from the morgue is gone. No evidence no case and we never find who shot Don."

"What I don't get is how the evidence can just go missing?" Colby frowns back as he pulls out his mobile and acts like he's scrolling through some emails.

"Easily if someone takes it."

"A conspiracy? Really?"

"Have you ever heard of PR?"

"Public Relations? What do they have to do with Don's evidence?" Chancing a look Samantha's way, Colby notices for the first time that there is a level of fear under her anger and that shocks him. _Could she be right? Is there a conspiracy here?_

"No! Not Public Relations, _PR_ …a group of dirty cops and government officials operating here in LA."

"What?! You think a cop killed Don?" Colby says louder than intended as he drops all pretence of not knowing Samantha and turns to stare her down. "You think one of our own killed Don and is now covering it up…the reach that an organisation like that would have…would be…"

"Catastrophic…yeah I know."

"Do you have any proof? Or is this all a theory?" Colby asks desperately, hoping it's the latter.

"Before he died AD Callaghan came to me with a request to check out some old case files. Cases he had a suspicion might have been intentionally sabotaged," Samantha whispers furtively as a couple of poorly dressed teens smoking pot walks past, but Colby's mind is too busy reeling from Samantha's words to take much notice.

"Do you remember which ones?"

"I can do you one better," Samantha smiles tightly as she steps closer to Colby and drops her voice lower yet. "I still have the files. I never checked them back in."

"And no one's noticed?"

"There are all random cases, I could never understand the connection that Nick found in them…I doubt anyone's even noticed they are gone."

"Do you think Nick was killed for those files?" Colby asks hesitantly as he glances worriedly around him, suddenly everyone felt like a threat.

"I think he hid his digging poorly and they killed him for it."

 _First Nick, then Don…Don knew…or Nick told him…_

"They're cleaning house."

"What?"

"Killing Nick, shooting Don…its connected…they're cleaning house. We need to tell Ian!"

"No Colby! Don't you see…we can't trust Agent Edgerton!"

"What? I'd trust Ian with my life! He's not dirty Sam."

"Yesterday I would have said the same…"

"But?"

"But after I called you I reached out to a couple other contacts," Samantha grimaces as if reacting to some invisible blow. Ian was spotted last night with Lt Walker at a motel Downtown."

"Lt Walker? What does that prove?"

"He's dirty Col!"

"He's a little heavy handed I'll give you that! But dirty? No way!"

"Open your eyes Colby!" Samantha shouts entreatingly. "Nick suspected Lt Walker of being a high ranking member of PR. _Don_ was shot by a _sniper_ and _Ian_ is spotted in town within hours of Don's death. It's not rocket science to put two and two together. Lt Walker is PR. Ian is PR."

"I don't believe you…"

"No?" taking her phone out of her pocket, Samantha takes a minute to bring up the camera roll and holds it out for Colby to see. "A contact sent me that earlier," She adds twisting the knife in Colby's gut a little deeper. "Believe me now?"

How could he not? Clear as day, for anyone to see was a picture of Lt Walker getting into Ian's jeep, with Ian at the wheel. The two were smiling like old friends...

 _Oh Ian…_

"If not Ian…who can we trust with this?"

"That's the problem…PR's web is so well woven…they're everywhere. FBI, ATF, LAPD…the justice department…the CSI lab…we're on our own Colby…trust no one!"

"Then you and I have a lot of work to do. I suggest you start by showing me those files."

*Meanwhile across Town*

Pulling up outside a cheap rundown flea-bit motel, Charlie begins to question the validity of his resolve. _Why had he let Ian talk him into coming here, rather than just handing Ian over to Colby then and there?_ Perhaps it was because a small part of Charlie still wanted to believe that Ian, their friend couldn't have done as he had admitted and shot his brother. Maybe it was because Charlie was under no illusions, he had seen Ian contemplate tossing him over that roof top and he hadn't…he'd also surrendered the gun… _damn it! It was all just so confusing!_

Either way, the decision was made now and Charlie couldn't back down. He wanted that file. He just questioned whether that was actually where Ian was taking him. "So it's in there is it?"

"Yes," Ian replies calmly, if he's bothered by the gun that Charlie never lowers, he isn't showing it.

"Go on then, get out," Charlie waves the gun as he makes to undo his seatbelt, his eyes never leaving Ian. He was under no misconceptions that Ian could probably wrestle the gun from him, shoot him and dispose of the body in a place like this.

"I picked this motel specifically because its shady under-life can hide a multitude of sins," Ian explains, reading Charlie's thoughts, or more likely his horrified expression. "There are so many dirty cops and officials in this town…that operate through motels just like this one, they don't even stop to look around them and see that you've hidden the one piece of evidence that can bring them all down right under their noses."

"You chose somewhere that you knew was under the dirty cops protection…but isn't that risky? Isn't this the place those same dirty cops come to conduct their shady business?"

"Running the angles there Charlie?" Ian smiles crookedly as he turns his face away and looks out at the grimy motel crawling with unsavoury activity. "It's risky yes, but if you disguise it well enough, no one is looking hard enough to tell they've been played. I'm calling their bluff, a little metaphor for you; I know how you like them…"

"Let's just get this over with," Charlie scowls disdainfully.

"As you wish boss, you might what to hide the gun under your coat though, as I say, they aren't looking at us but that doesn't mean their blind."

"Just get out of the car. I'll worry about the gun!"

"Aye, Aye captain!"

Getting out of the car, Charlie is careful to hide the gun inside the pocket of his jacket before moving around to stand behind Ian. "After you."

"Sure," Ian smiles as he starts walking and leads Charlie over to a ground level room. "That better be the gun," Ian mocks as Charlie stands close behind Ian as he pulls a set of keys slowly from his front pocket and starts unlocking the door.

"Just open it and get inside!" Charlie scowls again, in no mood for Ian's untasteful jokes.

"Sure thing boss," Ian chuckles to himself as he finishes unlocking the door and pulls the door wide open. "Charlie…just know…"

"Save it," Charlie cuts him off as he gestures with his coat to wave Ian inside.

"Ok," Ian shrugs and heads inside.

Charlie isn't surprised by the state of the room to be honest. The wallpaper was peeling, the celling had damp spots, there were probably cockroaches hiding in the corners…what did surprise Charlie, however, was the wad of used and bloody bandages lying on one of the twin beds, right next to his eldest nephew.

"Marc?"

"Uncle Charlie?"

" _Ian?_ " Charlie practically growls as he pulls the gun from his pocket and aims it at Ian's chest. " _Explain._ "

"Give me a minute and I'll do just that."

A soft voice replies from the bathroom making Charlie swivel away from Ian, "Who's there! Show yourself!"

"Hello Chuck," Don grins impossibly back at Charlie from the open doorway. His longish curls damp and his modesty protected only by a large white towel riding low on his hips.

"Don…" Charlie whispers in surprise as he drops the gun, luckily Ian with his lightning fast reflexes is there to catch it. "But…how…Ian said he shot you…"

"He did shoot me Charlie," Don whispers gently as Marc gets up to help Don move over to one of the twin beds, careful not to jostle his injured shoulder. "Just not to kill."

"So he's not dirty?"

"No, Charlie…I think I'd best explain…you see it all started five days ago when Robin gave me a file that Nick had asked her to pass on in the event of his death…"


	11. Chapter 11

Hi there! Just a quick note to say I'm really sorry for the late update. I sadly lost a friend to cancer in the time since my last chapter and haven't felt up to writing much since. When I eventually did start writing again I had to stop due to illness, so it's been a long couple of months. I just wanted to quickly say bless you all for your patience and continued support. This next chapter is rather long but I hope it doesn't disappoint. Thank you. ~ Colby'sGirl19 x

 **11**

 _ ***"**_ _All right, so where is the "I told you so?" – Don Eppes_

" _You made the call you thought was right. It sucks being the boss. But you know what? It's not a democracy." – Liz Warner_

 _Season 4, Episode 15: End Game*_

*3 Days Ago*

Leaning his back against the solid cold brick of a side alley wall, Don frowns angrily as he watches the crowd streaming past from underneath the hard brimmed edge of his baseball cap. "You're late," he whispers huffily when finally a tall shadow separates itself from the latest crowd of people, to slip inside the alley's thin entrance.

"My meeting ran on," Ian shrugs indifferently as he approaches as quietly and as stealthily as an alley cat at home in its natural environment. "You sound tense…did you manage to hide the file inside the PO Box like I told you too?"

"Tense? Tense? I'm beyond fucking tense! They were tailing my kids Ian! They had a man posted outside Brandon's school!"

"So you didn't hide the file?"

"No…I gave it to Brandon…he's on his way there now."

"You told your kid?" Ian hisses in amazement, his composure broken as he turns to stare incredulously at Don. "You seriously gave your eighteen year old son a folder containing the biggest scandal this country has seen since Watergate? Are you freaking nuts?!"

"Sixteen."

"What?"

"Sixteen…Brandon is my youngest son…"

"I honestly have no words…" Ian laughs hoarsely as he throws his arms up in disbelief.

"I told you, they were following my family. PR involved them not me and its ok, Brandon is a smart kid. He picked up on the tail and warned me. If anything he saved this investigation! So did I trust him with the file? Hell yeah I did!"

"You're right, I'm sorry Don…I had hoped we'd have more time."

"Time for what?"

"To formulate a better plan," Ian smiles sardonically as he looks morosely at the steady stream of passersby.

"You have a plan?"

"Well…half a plan…"

"What is it?" Don whispers excitedly, the sooner they could put the matter of PR to bed and arrest the person responsible for Nick's death the happier he would be. It discomforted him too much to live in this perpetual state of hyperawareness.

"I'm going to go undercover with PR, meanwhile you need to disappear."

"What?!"

"You're a target Don…look…I did some digging and the person who is leading the surveillance on you and your family…he's a nasty piece of work…he's old military…Don he's a cleaner."

"You think PR has put a hit out on me," Don whispers quietly, grateful that he was leaning against the alley wall or his knees might have caved beneath him.

"No _I know_ that PR has put out a hit on you," Ian states dispassionately as he crosses his arms and fixes Don with his hardest stare. "Look, if we don't remove you from the equation PR might decide your entire family needs cleaning..."

"Don't even go there Edgerton," Don snaps cuttingly, his earlier anger returning with gusto.

"I'm sorry Don…but we have to go there. I told you, I know this guy…we've worked together before."

"On an assassination?"

"That's classified."

" _Ian,_ you have to give me something, you just told me that there is an assassin out there stalking me and my family…I just gave the file to my son…what if they caught him…what if we're too late…Ian please…tell me what we are facing here."

"You're facing me with less finesse…Don…I trained him…I'm not exaggerating when I say that he won't stop coming till you are dead and he has that file."

"Then I disappear…how?"

"I'm going to kill you."

*Present Day*

"You seriously let Ian talk you into staging your own death?" Charlie splutters angrily as he struggles to grasp what Don is telling him. "How could you possibly think that this," He gestures around the motel room, "Was the best option?"

"It was that or go to PR with the file and try to go undercover with them," Don smiles weakly as Ian inspects the bullet wound before gently reapplying the dressing.

"Except no one would believe that you were dirty," Marc nods at his dad making Charlie's temper flare. He'd pretended to be dead, put them all through hell and deceived them all… _how was Marc so calm right now!_ _How could they seriously expect him to be ok with any of this?_

"But they wouldn't suspect Edgerton; especially if they believed that he had killed me and given them the file," Don continues to explain as he moves over to the wardrobe and pulls out a loose fitting shirt. _He's lost weight,_ Charlie notices uncomfortably as he shifts in his seat and tries his hardest to not let his resolve weaken. He was so pissed at his brother's deception…and yet he was also so god damned relieved too. _He's not dead,_ the little voice in his head would whisper whenever he opened his mouth to rant some more. _He's still alive…thank god he's not really dead!_

"Yeah not such a stretch to believe I'm dirty eh Charlie?" Ian arches an eyebrow at him from his leaning post across the room making Charlie blush embarrassedly; Ian's face was so expressionless, Charlie couldn't tell if Ian was actually really angry or just teasing.

"What I don't understand," Marc cut in quickly before Charlie could respond, "Is how you pulled it off. I watched the press footage…you were dead…they pronounced you dead!"

"Ah, yes," Don smiles wickedly to himself as he pulls on a pair of pants before moving over to sit next to his son on one of the motel room's solid twin beds. "That took a lot of…coercion…"

"Who else knows you're not really dead?" Charlie asks dumbfounded as he realises that aside from Robin and Gracie, he must be one of the last people to have been brought in on the secret. "Does Colby know?" Charlie hadn't thought so, not with how shaken Colby had been acting… _but was it all just an act?_ Colby had deceived them all before…it was possible he was deceiving Charlie again now.

"No he doesn't and that's the way it has to stay for now," Don replies uneasily as he weighs his next words carefully. "We need to be sure we can trust him before we bring him in."

"So if it wasn't Colby who helped you pull this off…who did?"

*3 Days Ago*

"Knock, knock."

Startled and pulled from her daydream, Dr Claudia Gomez looks up from her notetaking surprised to see Don leaning like a foreboding shadow in her doorway. "Don…what brings you here?" She asks dazed and confused as she watches Don saunter into her examination room with a great sombreness to his expression; closely followed by Agent Edgerton whose own serious expression mirrored Don's perfectly. "Has there been a breakthrough in Nick's case?"

"You could say that," Don replies cagily as he slides a sidelong glance at Ian who gravely nods his assent.

"Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like what's coming next?" She asks shrewdly as she eye's both Don and Ian in turn before landing her suspicious gaze back on Don.

"Because you're not," Don states simply as he wraps his arms about his body as if fighting off the morning chill. "Clau we're here to ask for your help."

"What kind of help?"

"The off the books and after hours kind of help," Ian adds cryptically as he leans casually back against the mortician's table, indifferent to the week old bloated corpse resting on the table awaiting autopsy.

"I'm agreeing to nothing until you tell me just what the crap is going on and how it's connected to Nick!"

Turning to regard Ian Don raises his eyebrow, a silent question to Ian who merely shrugs his reply: ' _It's up to you.'_

"Clau…we've known each other a long time now and I've always felt like I can trust you…I hope I was right because what I'm going to tell you next could see us all dead." Reaching forward to take her hand in his, Don looks entreatingly into her eyes and whispers, "This is your last chance to stay clean in this."

"I don't understand…"

"He's giving you an out," Ian drawls dispassionately as he stares at Don with disguised interest. "This is your last chance to keep the genie in the bottle and tell us to fuck off."

"You want me to agree to help you on empty promises and faith when you've told me nothing of the risks except that it could see us all dead! You ask too much! Stop talking in riddles and just tell me already! What exactly it is that you're asking of me?" Claudia chastises angrily as she pulls her hand from Don's grasp to place her hands on her hips as she gives both of them a chiding look in turn.

"She's right Ian, maybe we should rethink this?"

"You know we don't have time for that," Ian replies harshly, his tone soft and yet the undertone of aggression and frustration clearly audible for all to hear. "Look, Claudia…Don's family and life is in danger right now. What we are asking of you is to help Don disappear."

"I'm a mortician…how can I help with that? Oh…no…tell me you aren't…"

"Going to fake my own death…yes…that's exactly what we plan to do," Don grimaces as he watches Claudia's horrified expression. _But what did he expect from her? Fake his own death! He must be crazy! They both are!_

"How?" She asks more calmly than she's feeling as she gropes behind her for her desk and uses it to help lower herself back into her seat.

"I'm going to shoot him."

"Of course you are," Claudia laughs hollowly as she buries her face in her hands, unable to handle the ludocracy of the conversation. Ten minutes ago she had been debating what to order in for lunch, Chinese or sushi? Now the thought of eating made her stomach churn.

"Last chance if you want to back out," Don whispers kindly as he comes over and bends over her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. His touch was very real and solid, so she knew she couldn't be dreaming…

"What do you think?" Ian adds quickly betraying his eagerness for her to agree to their idiotic and quite frankly insane plan.

"What do I think?" She echo's back, her voice more shrill to the ear than she was expecting. "I think you're both nuts! _That's what I think!"_

"So that's a no?" Don asks disappointedly with a sharp intake of breath.

"That's an _'Are you high?'_ "

"Come on Don, you heard her. We'll have to go elsewhere. Fortunately I know a guy…he's not very legit but so long as you have enough money and don't ask too many questions he'll patch you up and keep you alive long enough to see this case through."

Grabbing Don's arm, Ian starts pulling Don towards the exit and though she knew she was being manipulated she couldn't help the next word to come out of her mouth. Already regretting it she calls out, "WAIT! Ok…just wait a minute and let me think!"

" _Claudia please_ ," Don asks her entreatingly, giving her those dark soulful puppy dog eyes that he knew she couldn't resist. _Unfair!_ "You used to work in the ER. You did a surgical rotation in your residency. You are more than qualified to help us pull this off. You have the knowhow and all the equipment right here…besides…once I explain everything…I know you're going to want to help!"

"Don wouldn't agree to let me shoot him if he didn't think it was the only way to keep his family safe," Ian adds quietly in that soft manipulating voice of his that only said enough to tease your brain into thinking the rest. _Damn,_ she frowns unhappily, _he has me there._

"Ian's the number three shot in America," Don smiles unsettlingly happy for someone discussing getting shot.

"Number two, I moved up a spot."

"Number two shot in America," Don laughs as his smile broadens. "He's world class; he knows where to shoot a man so as not to hit anything important and to not create too much lasting damage. I trust him to make that shot. Just as I trust you to patch me up after."

"Don…I haven't practiced on a living patient in over thirty years…what you're asking…"

"It's a lot. I know it is and yet I'm asking it…Claudia…the reason why…it affects us all. I told you that I've always felt like I can trust you…well now I'm asking you to trust me back."

"Damn you Eppes! And damn you too Edgerton! _I'm in ok_. If you're hair brained enough to see this through…then I guess I want to make sure you aren't stupid enough to get yourself killed for real!"

"Thank you Clau…thank you!"

"Thank me later. I think I'd better put Mr Anderson away whilst you two knuckle heads tell me exactly what's going on and just how you plan to pull off killing yourself!"

*Present Day*

"That's really all it took? Don battering his eyes and Ian's thinly veiled threats?" Charlie laughs incredulously as he looks around the room, giving each of them a bemused glare.

"Well, that's the abridged version, there was a lot more raving and cursing than that but let's not get too bogged down with the details," Don smiles dismissively as he turns to face Charlie properly, wincing in pain as he does. _Serves him right!_ Charlie scowls rebelliously. "All you really need to know Chuck, is that I made it very clear to Claudia that I would gladly let Ian shoot me for real if I thought it would protect my family and that means you and Dylan too."

"I…well I don't know how to reply to that…"

"You don't have too, just know that I'm sorry I lied and that I love you little brother," Don replies sincerely making Charlies eyes prick with tears.

"I forgive you alright!" Charlie throws his hands up in submission. "It was a stupid risk…but for you and Dylan I can't say I wouldn't do something equally reckless. I can't say Robin will be quite so forgiving though!"

"I'm hoping she'll be more grateful that I'm alive and that our children are safe to stay mad for long…"

"And I thought you were supposed to be the good one with women!" Charlie laughs sarcastically but immediately regrets it as he glimpses the wince on his brother's face, not from a gunshot wound but from a verbal blow…Charlie's words hurt and he desperately wished he could take them back.

"How is Robin?" Don asks quietly, his face a stormy sea of emotions, settling and shifting like waves of the tide.

"She's devastated," Charlie admits honestly, realising that there were just some blows you can't soften. "You promised her you wouldn't leave but you did…and she has questions about that file…"

"I thought she would."

"Where is it? She practically tore up half your office looking for it."

"Brandon's keeping it safe in one of Ian's safety deposit boxes. It's still there, Bran and Marc checked on it this morning." Don smiles proudly at his son as he reaches across and pats Marc's leg.

"Can I see it?"

"I swiped the key from Bran earlier," Marc admits quietly as he looks worriedly at his father for reassurance. "I could take Uncle Charlie to see it."

"No son, Ian will."

"I will?" Ian grunts his surprise from the corner, Charlie had almost forgotten he was there, he hadn't spoken for some time.

"You will and then you will both go back to the FBI and put my case to bed and keep an eye on Colby."

"You don't trust Colby?" Charlie asks surprised as Ian grudging accepts the key from Don. "He was right next to you when you got shot! He was devastated…"

"It's not safe to involve him yet."

"I hate to break it to you but we all are already involved and keeping some of us in the dark is what is holding you back in this investigation." Charlie argues impertinently. "Besides its Col, we know we can trust him, he's not a part of some big corrupt conspiracy!"

"You just bought me here by gun point because you didn't trust me!" Ian argues back huffily. Charlie guessed he was right to assume that Ian was pissed…but then he shouldn't have lied to Charlie first. _It's their fault not his._

"Enough!" Don shouts angrily as he grasps his right shoulder in pain. "Ian's cover only lasts so long as they think that I am dead. Telling everyone I'm alive is what is going to ruin this investigation. We're blind Charlie. We can't trust as we trusted before…the corruption runs too deep. Something you will learn once you've read the file. Until then shut up and stop whining. For fucks sake Nick died for this…and I won't let those responsible for it get away. Together we will root out the corruption and follow it to its highest ranking member and no Ian; I will not rest until that happens."

"But I just shot you! You need to rest or you will be no good to anyone!"

"What does he mean dad?" Marc asks worriedly as he looks back and forth between his father and Ian, both of who were giving the other a hard stare.

"What aren't you telling us?" Charlie chips in just as confused by the sudden undercurrent of argument going on between Don and Ian.

"Don's been making little side moves without my knowledge." Ian replies irritably as his phone starts to ring. "Edgerton," He answers as he raises a finger to his lips to gesture for everyone to stay quiet. "Col, what's up? You don't sound ok…"

"What does he want?" Don whispers worriedly as Ian stands up and hands Charlie his gun back.

"I know the place, I'll see you there in ten," Ian agrees reluctantly before hanging up and moving over to the door. "He's heard about the cock up with the evidence and he's upset. I'm going to go cool him down. Why don't you tell your son and brother about your extracurricular activities?" Ian asks pointedly, not letting Don off the hook even though the interruption in the conversation was a perfect excuse to change the subject. "Call me tomorrow and I'll take you to the file," Ian tells Charlie finally before storming out. No one could say Ian didn't know how to make an exit as well as an entrance.

"So you haven't just been holed up here?" Marc asks confused as he stands up and moves over to Charlie's side ganging up on his father, or so it felt to Don.

"No," Don admits grudgingly as he flashes the closed door his angriest glare. "Getting Claudia to help fake my own death was only half the plan; we also had to control the resulting investigation too."

"What did you do Don?"

"The evidence that Claudia had to hand over to the crime lab would have incriminated us, so I made a little visit to someone at the crime lab and convinced them to make certain pieces of evidence go missing."

"How?" Charlie asks harder than he intends as he gets the sickening feeling he didn't want to know the answer.

"Blackmail, how else."

*2 Days ago*

 **"** **Stick or twist?"**

 **"** **He'll stick, won't you James?"**

 **"** **Don? But you're…you're…"**

 **"** **Here, yes and it's time** ** _you_** **left," Don smiles menacingly as he darts a pointed look at CSI James Knolls's dwindling stack of chips.**

 **"** **But…how?" James asks bewildered, missing the turn of the dealers hand and the loss of yet more chips.**

 **"** **That's something we need to discuss," Don replies brightly as he gestures for James to collect the last of his chips and follow him out back. "I have a room upstairs where we can talk…privately."**

"But you died, I saw it!"

"You shouldn't believe everything you see," Don grins impossibly as he buzzes for a lift, which opens immediately and steps inside. "Floor nineteen," Don tells the attendant which floor to press as James shuffles uncomfortably in after Don.

"I don't understand…"

"Don't worry you will," Don whispers mysteriously as he leans against the back of the lift and awaits their stop much to James chagrin, he didn't like being ordered around or being stopped mid bet.

Once the elevator reaches the nineteenth floor Don tips the attendant with a smile and a wink before making his way confidently down the corridor to one of the larger suits at the back of the hotel. It's only as Don swipes the keycard to get in that James realizes that it's his hotel room and that Don must have nicked the keycard at some point. "Now hang on a second!" James shouts outraged as he follows Don into the room and watches in shock as Don helps himself to a bottle from the mini bar.

"Shut up James and sit down."

"What's going on here? You died!"

"No James, I faked my own death which you've already worked out…what you want to and should be asking is why I faked my own death and what I could possibly want from you." Sitting down on a soft plush sofa, Don kicks his feet up on the coffee table and makes himself comfy as he opens the bottle and proceeds to take a long pull before sighing with satisfaction. "You picked a pretty posh casino," Don admires as he salutes James with the bottle before taking another long pull of the expensive whiskey.

" _Alright then…why did you fake your own death and what could you possibly want from me_?" James asks through gritted teeth as he takes a seat in a matching armchair opposite Don and crosses his arms in barely concealed agitation.

"I faked my own death because the organization that you work for killed my best friend and targeted my family and you're going to help me keep the fact that I faked my own death a secret," Don smiles but there is no warmth behind the smile making James wince and shiver at the same time.

"I have no idea what you're talking about…"

"PR. You work for them. They killed Nick and then they threatened me and my family. Fortunately for you I'm giving you a chance to redeem yourself and help me bring them down. Become a double agent so to speak." Don replies coldly as he settles James with his frostiest glare.

"You've taken leave of your senses!" James laughs hollowly as he makes to stand up and that's when he hears the gun cocking. "Don! What are you doing?"

"What is necessary to protect my family."

"I'm not trying to hurt them!"

"No but PR is and you are a member of PR."

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"Don't test me. I'm a man who has gone to great lengths to convince the world I am dead. Your death would never be solved."

"I'm listening."

"The evidence from the morgue for my case, I want you to destroy it."

"That's ridiculous! I can't destroy evidence!"

"Of course you can, because it's not the first time. Nick found evidence on you and a lot of members of PR, they killed him for it and now I have it. You are in that file James, as are your crimes."

"Samantha has the case. Destroying the evidence is impossible."

Smiling evilly, Don leans forward and whispers, "You need to get Samantha tossed from the case."

" _What_?"

"She is in danger; she is on PR's radar, something about missing files. You want to turn your life around and start doing good again…start by saving Samantha's life. Toss her off the case, destroy the evidence and I will destroy your entry in Nick's file."

"I…can't…they have my balls in a vice…"

"Your gambling is of no interest to me or my investigation," Don answers reassuringly as he places his whiskey unfinished on the table. "Your past indiscretions are of no interest to me or my investigation. Help me now and your slate is wiped clean. PR's days are numbered James. You were once an honorable man…I'm hoping that I'm talking to that man now."

"There is a way to do as you ask…it would mean ruining Samantha's career though…and if she has these files that you speak of…"

"It's ok, she doesn't know what she is sitting on and I will take care of those files…as for her career…we can restore it once PR is destroyed. Until then…you've done worse to stay afloat."

"Not to someone I know and respect!"

"Look on it as saving her life."

"She'll never forgive me…"

"There is no forgiveness for people like us," Don whispers sadly as James suddenly realizes that at some point Don had put the gun away.

"You know I could go to PR…tell them you're alive and that Ian isn't really dirty…"

"You could," Don nods as he stands up so that he was towering over James, making James shrink back in his seat. "But I would hate to be the person that pisses of Agent Edgerton. When you have the evidence call me on this number."

"I haven't said yes yet." James whispers spitefully though it was obvious that he was going to help out. Don was offering him a pardon and if he could pull off faking his own death…James knew which side he wanted to be on.

"Didn't you?" Don smirks impossibly as if he can read James's mind, making James scowl. "Don't make me wait long," Don warns quietly before slipping from the room leaving James reeling from the impossible situation he now found himself in.

"I guess I'm going into work to steal some evidence," James tells the room huffily as he grabs his work kit and badge before heading back down to the lobby where he calls a taxi and heads straight for the crime lab.

*Present Day*

Ian barely manages to switch the jeep's ignition off when the back door to his jeep is wrenched open and Colby slips inside. "I thought we were meeting inside," Ian smiles as he turns around in his seat to see that Colby has his gun trained on Ian's torso. "You know that's the second gun I've had pointed at me today."

"Maybe you're keeping the wrong company," Colby frowns, his gun unwavering in its aim.

"If you have something to say Colby, perhaps you should just spit it out. I generally like to know what I'm being accused of."

"You were already in LA and you shot Don…but I know you Edgerton. You once pointed out that we're very much alike and you were right; which is how I know you're not dirty. So why don't you tell me what the fuck is going on right now and what it has to do with PR?"

"You know about PR?" Ian replies startled as he tries and fails to take in what Colby is saying. "And if you're convinced that I'm not dirty why are you pointing a gun at me?"

"I guess I just had to make sure first," Colby shrugs apologetically as he lower the weapon and returns it to its holder. "And it was Samantha that told me you were dirty. She also told me not to trust you. But then she also said she had some files that Nick asked her to get for him. They were gone when we went to look at them this evening."

"Yeah sorry about that…Don couldn't let Samantha hold on to them, PR knows that she is on to them…we were trying to protect her in this."

"Don…he's…"

"Alive? Yes," Ian smiles as Colby takes a large intake of breath and then releases it again in a big puff.

"That's a relief."

"Look…I'm sorry that we didn't include you but with all the uncertainty surrounding who is corrupt and what with Nick being murdered…Don didn't want to put you in danger…he had hoped to contain the investigation to as small a group as possible…that's proven impossible…"

"I get why he didn't include me," Colby looks absently out of the window at the bar's bustling car park before looking back at Ian. "But consider me now included. If half of what Sam has told me is true…you're going to need every one you can get on this."

"You're right…Don's not going to be happy but then he's been grouchy ever since I shot him!" Ian laughs hollowly as he switches the ignition back on and pulls out of the bar's car park.

"Where are we going?"

"First to retrieve a file and then onto my motel room; It's going to take all night but I think it's important we get everyone up to speed."

"Who's everyone?"

"You, me, Don, Charlie and Marc."

"Don's son knows?"

"Both of them actually…it's kind of a long story!" Ian sighs tiredly as Colby raises his eyebrows in surprise

"And I want to hear _all_ of it!"

An hour later, once they had the file safely in their possession once more Ian had come to the decision that having Colby on board was a good thing. He knew, however, that Don wouldn't see it that way. The whole point was to keep Colby safe. But Ian believed that it should be Colby's decision. He had every right to help clean up police corruption in LA as either Don or Ian did. It affected them all and in Ian's opinion, at least Colby was on his guard now.

"I can't believe Samantha was right…" Colby whispers to himself as he uses the trip from the PO Box to the motel room to ponder over the file's contents. "The level of corruption in this file…it's catastrophic!"

"We can't include Samantha in this…you understand that right?"

"She thinks you're dirty though!"

"That's my cover Col…and we need PR to keep thinking it."

"She won't stop…you know that right?"

"I know…which is why you need to keep her occupied and looking in the opposite direction." Ian shrugs as he turns right at a set of lights before pulling on to a dingy motel's poorly lit forecourt. "Col…" Ian adds quickly as Colby goes to open the door and get out.

"Yes?"

"Tell me honestly…why didn't you think I was dirty?"

"Do you remember when you took me hostage?" Colby smiles at the memory. "We all thought the worst of you…we had our doubts and we were wrong."

"That's it? That's why you trusted me?"

"No I trusted you because when you were holding me hostage you reminded me that you carry your life in this jeep. Hell you told me that your idea of a five star hotel is an insulated sleeping bag and a water proof tent. What could PR offer you? Like it or not, you are too honorable Edgerton. You might have those of PR who don't know you fooled…but not me."

"Thanks…"

"No need for that…but if you feel you really need to repay me, do it by getting your ass in that room and filling me in on the whole story."

"Don't worry; I don't think any of us will get any sleep tonight!" Ian laughs sarcastically as he jumps out of the jeep and leads Colby over to the Hotel room. "Honey, I'm home," he calls out as he opens the door and steps inside. "And I brought a friend." From the look on Don's face, Ian was right. He wasn't pleased to see Colby at all.

"Hi Don," Colby whispers shyly as Ian closes the door behind them and locks it. "I'm glad you're not dead." He adds lamely, for want of something better to say.

"Thank you," Don smiles tightly as he watches Ian pull the curtains shut and take watch at the window. "But I think you had best sit down and explain how it is that you are here and then we all have some planning to do."


	12. Chapter 12

**Hi guys. I'm really sorry that I haven't posted a new chapter since the end of November. Life got pretty crazy there for a while.**

 **Anyway I'm back and determined to finish this story and I actually ended the last bit at a convenient section as I had planned to push the story ahead somewhat anyways.**

 **However, I do know that it's been a long time, so I don't expect you to overly remember what's been going on, I know I had to review my notes thoroughly to make sure I didn't mess around with stuff already written! So I have provided a brief summary designed to just remind you of the important plot points. For those who are new to it and have no clue that I took a leave of absence, just proceed to the chapter XD**

 **Again, sorry for the slow update! I really hope you enjoy the chapters as I really enjoy writing them. X –Colby'sGirl19**

 **Brief Summary: When the Assistant Director of the FBI is found brutally murdered it's up to Don and his team to catch those responsible. But when his wife Robin hands him a folder from the late Assistant Director, with the instructions that it should only be passed on in the event of his death, Don is forced to admit that he doesn't know who to trust with its secrets.**

 **The file holds the AD's notes on a secret investigation into the prospect of corruption in the FBI, ATF, Justice Department and possibly further. Finally making a decision that Ian Edgerton is the only man he can trust, Don reaches out to Ian who comes to LA as fast as he can to help out.**

 **Meanwhile Charlie comes to the FBI to lend a hand with the AD's murder investigation. Don and Charlie's relationship is strained because of a mistake Don made that ultimately lead to their father's death and Charlie spent the last two years blaming Don. His resentment ultimately pushed his wife Amita away. But after the AD's death Charlie is determined to try and patch things up with Don.**

 **After putting out some initial feelers, Ian discoverers that the organisation has put surveillance out on Don and his family: they want the file. The only way to throw them off the fact that they are investigating PR is to fake Don's death and for Ian to fake burning the file for them, integrating himself undercover with them in the process.**

 **Before Ian pretends to shoot him, Don admits to his youngest son that they are being watched and charges Brandon with the responsibility to hide the file and then meet him later to explain the rest. At this point only Don, Ian and Brandon know that Don is really alive and that the shooting is a fake.**

 **It doesn't stay this way for long though as Charlie, Don's mathematically brilliant brother works out that Ian shot his brother and to stop him from shooting Ian out of revenge Ian takes Charlie to see his brother. At the same time a CSI called Samantha is put on suspension for mishandling evidence from Don's murder investigation. It is later revealed that Don had the head CSI destroy the evidence to cover up the fact that he is alive.**

 **Marc, Don's eldest son catches Brandon sneaking out to check on the file and demands that Brandon tell him the truth about what was going on. Having no choice Brandon admits everything and shows Marc the file. Not satisfied about hearing the story from Brandon, Marc seeks out Don. He needs answers and his father is the only one who can give them to him.**

 **Meanwhile Samantha is not satisfied to leave it there, she knows she did nothing wrong and is determined to reveal the truth. She seeks out Colby and tells him all she has heard about PR and that Ian is also a member; she also suspects that Ian was the one to kill Don. She tells Colby she knows all of this because the AD came to her and asked for her help connecting some CSI files to crimes that he suspected PR were involved in.**

 **Colby is naturally shocked that Ian, his friend, might be dirty and doesn't believe it for a second. So he seeks out Ian and demands to be told the truth. Ian agrees to tell him and brings him to Don, just as he had with Charlie.**

 **And that's where the story is so far. This next chapter is thrown six months later and we pick up with each of the characters stories from there.**

 **12**

 _*"_ _I'm not here to try and restore your faith in the system; I'm just trying to find his killer." – David Sinclair_

 _Season 2, Episode 12: The O.G.*_

*6 Months Later*

Looking up confused, Robin watches as the crowd around her erupts into a voluminous mass of chanting and cheering. Scanning the crowd she realises that the noise of the spectators is in support of the batter, who had just hit the perfect ball and was currently rounding third base. Clapping her hands absently, Robin smiles faintly at her daughter Gracie, who was half-standing half-squatting in her seat as she chanted "Go Bobcats Go!" at the top of her lungs along with the other spectators in the stands. In contrast Marc sat on Robin's other side completely oblivious to the crowd's raucous activities and his mother's scrutiny as he tapped furiously away at his cell phone.

"Brandon's next," She forces a grin as she nudges her eldest son causing him to give a noncommittal grunt in reply. "Did you hear? I said your brother's next," She adds, attempting to make her tone lighter than her mood.

"YEAH GO BRANDON!" Gracie giggles as she wiggles excitedly in her seat and waves her pom poms along with the Cheerleaders on the pitch who were dancing in celebration of the previous batter's home run. Brandon had a tough act to follow but Robin had faith in him. Brandon had really come along in the last six months, with his school work and with re-joining the baseball team…he even had a girlfriend now…Izzy…Danni…Gabby? Robin couldn't remember, but she was proud of the transformation all the same. She wished she could say the same for Marc…

Whereas Brandon had used their father's death as inspiration for turning his life around Marc seemed to have shrunk in on himself. Her Beautiful, exuberant boy was a shadow of his former self. He was constantly missing at meals, school and Ice Hockey games to the point where Robin was at a loss to understand how to help her struggling son. When they had first gotten the news her brave boy seemed to stand strong…a lighthouse bringing her safely home whenever she found herself adrift…and then it all changed. He didn't eat, he barely spoke more than a few words to her these days and Robin couldn't fathom the cause of the change. Six months and he seemed to be more aggrieved than when the news had first come.

"I've got to take this," Marc grumbles hastily as he pops up from his seat and starts barging his way past the other people in their row, pulling Robin from her reverie and getting away before she even had time to acknowledge that Marc's phone had been ringing or before she could even ask him where he was going.

Sighing heavily, Robin turns back to Gracie and plasters a big grin on her face, feigning a happiness she quite frankly didn't feel. Maybe the pain and withdrawal that Robin was noticing in Marc was only a reflection of her own grief and denial, it wasn't a thought she wanted to explore, not when she still felt so raw, so instead Robin asks, "What do you think?" as the Cheerleaders finally leave the pitch and Brandon stands up to the plate. "Home run?"

"Nah," Gracie waves her tiny hand in disagreement, "Based on his previous runs and batting average…second base at best."

"You sound like your Uncle Charlie," Robin laughs genuinely at Gracie's serious face, it was a sound she barely recognised these days and it brought a wide grin to her daughters face.

"I've missed your laugh mommy," Gracie whispers so quietly that Robin doesn't hear it as she turns back to the action and Brandon hits the ball, only making it as far as second base.

"You were right!" Robin laughs again as she reaches out and strokes her daughter's cheek affectionately; careful not to smudge the face paint that she had spent an hour doing that morning. Gracie had wanted to do Robin's face as well but she had refused, drawing the line on her motherly support as having turned up at all…looking at the other mothers in the crowd she realised now that she was the only person other than Marc who didn't have some sort of face paint.

It was moments like these that Robin missed Don the most. She knew he would have loved to see Brandon playing baseball again, he might even have made the time to get out of the office long enough to make it to the game…he definitely would have worn face paint…he'd have even let Gracie do it herself and worn her terrible art skills on his face all day…he might even have stretched so far as to wear his old foam finger... _I'm a failure as a parent_ , Robin whispers silently to herself as she forces the smile that had slipped off her face back in to place and joins Gracie and the crowd in the chanting once more.

*Beneath the Stands*

 _I'm a failure as a parent…_ Don sighs heavily as he watches through the cracks in the bleachers as his son pull's back and swings hard, almost missing the ball, before legging it to second base.

"What are you doing here?" Marc hisses furiously as he digs his hands into the pockets of his jacket and looks around suspiciously for anyone who might glance their way.

"Don't worry, no one will recognise me with the cap and face paint," Don smiles roguishly as he puts his hand on Marc's shoulder and squeezes it affectionately before pulling his eldest son in for a bear hug.

"Do you have news?" Marc asks when Don finally lets him go. "Has Ian made contact?"

"I do and he has," Don replies quietly as the crowd above them breaks into a loud cheer, clapping hard and stamping their feet till the whole bleachers shook around them. "Ian has been invited to a poker match with Lt Walker and other top brass; we're hoping that Ian will finally be introduced to some big PR players."

"What makes him think that this is finally the night?" Marc asks sceptically. It wasn't the first time in the last six months that Ian had thought he was going to be introduced to top members of PR to then be taken off to some other place last minute. It helped them put a case together against some of the other dirty cops in the city but without the head of the serpent PR wasn't going anywhere, much like their investigation.

"After their drug heist the other night Lt Walker was invited to the game and he's taking Ian along as his number two. It's a promotion Marc, Gary is starting to trust Ian…you'll learn when you become an FBI officer…undercover takes time. You can't rush these things like you see on the TV. Ian has made Walker and him inseparable. I bet Gary can't even remember a time when he didn't have the reassuring help of Edgerton by his side. They drink together, they work together and they piss together…that's how you build trust."

"So tonight…we could have the answer to who is fronting PR?" Marc asks hopefully, and Don winces internally at the look of longing in his son's eyes. _I've missed you all too kid,_ Don longed to tell his son…to hold his wife…to tuck Gracie in at night…to not have to watch his son play baseball through the cracks in the bleachers. It was moments like this that Don really missed his family…at least he had some contact with his eldest son…

"We're all meeting at the motel tonight to discuss it…can you get away?" It was Don's turn to sound and look hopeful. Ever since that day in the motel room when Marc had discovered the truth Don had put his son to work. Helping him with surveillance and helping him build a case file against members of PR through the research that the others gave them. Marc had proven himself to be a formidable asset and in truth Don was being a little bit selfish because he missed his family with a passion. He wished that he could have had more contact with Brandon over the past six months but his youngest son was more cautious about meeting up…despite Don being 'Dead and buried' PR continued to place agents on his family…just in case.

"Mom's getting suspicious," Marc replies hesitantly, his face a mixture of longing to spend time with his father and a need to protect his mother. "She's been checking my stuff for drugs."

"How do you know?"

"I used one of the spare nanny cams..."

"You're right…you should be with the others tonight," Don nods sadly as he watches Brandon take his place at the plate once more. "How…how are they?"

"Mom checks in and out still…she thinks we don't hear her crying but my room is right next to hers and they aren't the thickest walls…Gracie still says goodnight to you every night. She snuck a photo of you from a photo album and was hiding it under her pillow," Marc smiles crookedly at the memory. "I found it one night after reading her a story so I went out and bought a frame for it and left it on her nightstand for her to find in the morning…"

"That was really good of you," Don smiles faintly as he did his best to hold back the tears.

"I wish you could come home…" Marc whispers quietly but the crowd erupted with cheering once more as Brandon raced around second and third base set to get a home run and Don didn't hear.

"Go Brandon!" Don laughs and claps along with the crowd as Brandon makes it home by the smallest of margins.

"What time tonight?"

"Sorry?"

"What time are you all meeting at the motel?"

"Probably just after midnight, it's a late poker game," Don replies as he checks his watch and sighs heavily once more, he'd been doing a lot of that lately.

"What's up?"

"I need to go…I'm meeting Claudia at twelve. It's the only time she could fit me in for a check-up."

" _How is_ the shoulder?"

"Perfect, but you know how Clau worries…will you…?"

"Yes…I'll let Brandon know you came…tell you what, come here…!" Pulling out his mobile phone Marc takes a quick photo of the two of them for Brandon to see later. "He'll love the disguise," Marc laughs as Don pulls him in for another long hug.

"I'm proud of you son," Don whispers in Marc's ear before letting him go.

"I'll see you tonight."

"I thought you needed to stay home?"

"And miss the night when we finally find out who the head of PR is?" Marc smiles cockily as he starts walking backwards. "Never," And with a wink Marc was gone, leaving Don to make his own exit, doing his best to be careful not to be seen.

*Across Town*

Stretching lazily against the silk sheets Colby smiles crookedly from the memory of recent satisfaction as his eyes flutter open to see Samantha's face next to his, kissing him awake. "You fell asleep," She whispers seductively against his mouth as her hands trail their way through his soft chest hair arousing a need in him that had only recently been sated. "I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye."

"You're leaving?"

"Justin called…it's not good news."

"The case?" Colby askes surprised as he ignores Sam's playful touch and his body's instant reaction to it and sits up to face her properly. "What happened? It was a slam dunk case!"

"I know, but from what Justin said the defence attorney slaughtered him on the stand. He ripped holes in his testimony until Justin became flustered and started making mistakes," She replies angrily as she gets up and grabs her CSI kit.

"And Holace didn't stop him?" Colby shakes his head confused making Samantha sigh with frustration.

"I've told you before Col…Holace is PR. They rigged the case. Estefan walks, meanwhile twenty grams of Estefan's coke goes missing from the evidence locker. I tried asking questions but I'm on probation. James couldn't spin out the suspension for any longer without any evidence. Trust me though; if I even give him the slightest reason to, he will suspend me again."

"Don't worry, it's only temporary," Colby rushes to reassure her but the tight knot of guilt in his stomach reminds him that he was promising something he couldn't actually know for sure, but so long as Don still needed intel from Sam Colby was going to have to keep on spinning his web of lies.

One case, two separate investigations, two different teams and Colby was the only one bridging the two. He would give Sam enough information to stop her from going nuclear and messing up Don's case, but as the time went on the harder she was becoming to control. James wasn't always cooperative and Don needed to know what PR was up to in the CSI department. This wasn't the first mysterious disappearance from lock up of late and it wasn't the first case to tank because of it either…

He could feel Sam's impatience as she walked back over to the bed to give Colby's naked body an appreciative glance before leaning in and kissing him deeply. "You've been saying that for six months," Samantha sighs breathily as she reluctantly comes up for air.

"You know that the only way to take out PR is to take them out at their source. Ok right now I could name at least a hundred cops, agents, lawyers and judges involved but that won't stop them. We need the boss, the "Don", the one making the decisions and moving all the pieces. I want the puppeteer not the puppet."

"I know," Samantha smiles sadly as she backs away once more. "And I've been thinking about that…what happened today can't happen without bribes or payoffs. We need to follow the money."

"Find the money man…it's an avenue we haven't had much luck with yet…but I know a money Launderer I can put some feelers out to…get him to make some more enquiries…"

"Whatever you do be careful please," Sam smiles tightly as she grabs her keys and leaves Colby's apartment before he can even say goodbye. Leaving him to take a cold shower and get dressed. He had told his PA that he was in a meeting and as the acting SAIC his disappearance would actually be noted now.

God he missed the simple days when Don was in charge. Sam wasn't the only one desperate for a resolution. He was tired of the lies, of the secrecy…and he was worried that he might actually be falling for Samantha and the more he did the less he wanted to put her in harm's way. He was the bridge between two investigations and he was begging to worry that his foundation was cracking.

*Meanwhile*

Hovering on the threshold of the old craftsman home's solid porch, Amita Ramanujan looks up uncertainly at the house that she had called home for just under twenty years and feels the familiar aching pinch of regret in her chest that she had felt the day she had left.

Ignoring the pain and pushing aside her foreboding sense of uneasiness, Amita forces herself to ignore the signs of neglect and wear and tear as she presses forward to knock hard on the solid oak door. She still had a key of course, but somehow after two years of absence Amita felt it somehow inappropriate to use it. She wasn't coming home; she was only here for her son.

"Mom," Dylan smiles faintly as he pulls back the front door and waves her inside. "Thank you for coming so quickly."

"It sounded urgent on the phone," Amita smiles tightly as she steps inside and looks around the large open plan living room and dining room. Nothing had changed much in two years and yet there were definite signs that things were missing. It took her a moment to realise that it was her stuff. Charlie had removed her from the room and somehow that hurt more than she had expected it too… _of course he removed your stuff you idiot!_ She admonishes herself quietly as Dylan closes the door behind her and then stands there looking at her uncomfortably unsure of how to proceed.

"Did you want something to drink?" Dylan asks uneasily, the first to break the awkward silence as Amita looks around the room quietly noting all the places where her presence had once been…he'd even removed her from the photographs…

"No…thank you D…why don't you tell me instead why you called?" Amita replies slowly, she didn't want her son to think she was unhappy to see him or to hear from him…she just…being home…no not home…

"It's dad," Dylan admits reluctantly breaking into her turmoiled thoughts and snapping her back to the present.

"What's wrong? Is he ok?" She asks startled, startled that Dylan had brought her back because of his father and surprised at how much her heart raced at the prospect of seeing him. "Is he here?"

"He's in the garage…that's the problem…he hasn't left it in six months," Dylan shifts uncomfortably as he rakes his slender fingers through his shaggy black hair. He really needed a haircut but at sixteen years of age Dylan was old enough to do what he wanted.

"He's not left the garage in 6 months…and you are just calling me?" She replies horrified as she makes a move towards the back door but Dylan quickly blocks her path. It amazed her how much her son had grown in the last two years…in fact everything about her son had changed in two years… _and you weren't around for any of it…_ the nagging voice in her head reprimanded her quietly as Dylan gestured for her to take a seat at the dining room table so he could explain.

"He has and he hasn't…I'm not explaining it very well," Dylan sighs as he sits down next to her and picks uncomfortably at the rip in the knee of his black jeans.

"Why don't you start at the beginning…" She suggests gently as she takes Dylan's hand in hers and gives it a little squeeze.

"It started not long after Uncle Don died…" Dylan's voice cracks as he mention's his uncle and Amita's heart cracks with it. Dylan and his uncle had been very close, the loss must have been devastating…Dylan had hidden his grief so well on their brief skype chats every month that she hadn't really thought about the fact that he might be putting up a front.

"Go on," She encouraged him with a small smile as she wondered to herself if it had been Don's passing that had changed their son so radically…she knew that Dylan had skyped a lot less than usual in the last six months and she kicked herself for selfishly staying away…she just couldn't bear to see Charlie like that again…watching the death of Alan change him had been bad enough…

"When the case went unsolved after a couple months Dad took to holing himself up in the garage. He claims he's doing research on a new behavioural maths paper but the little I've seen…it makes no sense…"

"You think he's trying to solve the murder by himself?"

"I think that in the last four months I haven't seen my father. Mom…he's different…he's secretive…he's paranoid…he's drinking again…" Looking away, Dylan tries to mask the pain that crosses his face at the mention of the drink. When Alan had died Charlie had been angry and that anger had mostly been fuelled by alcohol. It was the reason Amita had taken the job in New York and moved away…the only part that had back fired was that Dylan had refused to go with her.

"I'll go talk to him…don't worry," She smiles more brightly that she feels. "We'll sort him out together."

"Thanks," Dylan grunts reluctantly as he drops her hand and gets up. "I'll wait for you in my room." And without so much as a smile or a hug goodbye Dylan makes his way upstairs and Amita feels her eyes prick with tears.

 _He still hasn't forgiven me for leaving…can you really blame him? Sh_ e whispers to herself as she stands up and smooths the creases from her floral patterned skirt and pulls her red cardigan back over her hips before moving over to the mirror next to the stairs to sort her hair out. She had hoped to avoid Charlie but a part of her knew she needed to see him…there was so much that had been left unfinished between them. Now was as good a time as any to finish them.

Making her way out of the backdoor and around the side of the house to the garage, Amita knocks with more confidence than she feels as her heart leaps to her throat in unspoken panic at the prospect of seeing him again and her heart races with the need to see him again.

"Amita?" Charlie asks confused as he pulls back the garage door and squints at the bright sunlight framing her soft features. He was as handsome as ever and Amita was shocked to feel the familiar stirrings of longing to be held by him again as she took in his dishevelled appearance.

His black curly locks were long enough that he had to brush them from his eyes to see her properly and the light dusting of stubble on his jaw told her he hadn't shaved that morning and his clothes looked slept in. For a man who had locked himself in a garage for four months he looked pretty damn good and Amita couldn't help but stare speechlessly as he too studied her face and body for changes. "You want to come in?" He smiles crookedly after a moment and her heart squeezes with a mixture of sadness and regret as she paints a smile on her face and follows him inside.

The once large garage looked small with all of Charlie's blackboards and work books crowding the room, the once live in flat that Alan had built for himself was all gone and again Amita felt a mixture of grief and regret pinching her heart. The only part of Alan that remained in the conversion was the stairs that led to a platform that over looked the bottom of the garage and was where Alan had slept.

Dylan was right, Charlie had definitely moved into the garage but it wasn't as dire as she had first thought because Charlie was clearly still sleeping and most importantly bathing. She was also surprised that despite Dylan's assessment that Charlie was drinking again, she couldn't actually see any empty bottles littering the room as they had after Alan's death.

"So…why are you here Amita? I thought you would have called before coming to visit Dylan…I could have had the spare room made up for you," Charlie asks bluntly, though not with menace, Amita was relieved to notice.

"Actually it was Dylan who called me here. He's worried about you," Amita replies just as bluntly, deciding to be brutally honest.

"He needn't be," Charlie replies with a flicker of irritation. Dylan must have tried reaching his father on several occasions before asking Amita to visit. She didn't know how to feel about being her son's last resort. "As you can see I'm fine. I'm working on…a paper and I moved into the side flat for some peace. Before dad converted it I did my best thinking in this garage."

"I know that's the party line you've been feeding our son," Amita sighs sadly as she looks at the scribbles on the blackboards, she missed the smell of writing out formulas with Charlie at CalSci, "But I don't believe it any more than our son."

"Well I don't know what else to say," Charlie crosses his arms defensively as he leans back on the desk, his beautiful face contorted with fake indignation.

"I know you Charlie, I know when you're lying and that was a lie."

"No, you _knew_ me. It's been two years since we last spoke."

"People don't change that much in two years Charlie," Amita replies sadly as she looks away to avoid his hard look.

"Well apparently I changed too much for you in the months following my father's death…" Charlie replied genuinely annoyed now and Amita cringes from the verbal blow. She had known he would still be angry but somehow she hadn't expected it to hurt so much after two years.

"Would you believe me if I said I'm sorry?" Amita replies in a strangled whisper as she takes a couple steps towards Charlie, hating the distance between them but stops when Charlie flicks her a look of grief so strong that it paralyses her.

"No," Charlie whispers back as he drops his arms to his sides and closes the gap to her instead. "Because it's me who needs to say they're sorry," He smiles ruefully as he closes the distance till their faces are only inches apart making her gasp with shock.

"I never should have left," She murmurs sadly admitting what she knew in her heart to be the truth. "I was scared then and I'm scared now…because all I've wanted to do…all I still want to do is come home Charlie…I've missed you something terrible."

"I've missed you too…" Charlie whispers as he reaches a hand out to gently stroke her soft cheek as his thumb slowly strokes the contours of her lips. "Are you really here?"

"I'm really here…" She whispers back barely loud enough to be heard above her heart that was busy slamming itself against the inside of her ribs and then he was kissing her, hard. His hands running through her long black hair as he backed her up against the nearest chalkboard, taking her breath away with his kisses.

*Across Town*

"He's here," Ian informs Gary with a gentle nudge to wake him up as he watches a blacked out van reverse into the empty underground parking level where Ian and Gary were waiting.

"Remember, I do the talking and you do that intimidating thing that you do so well," Gary orders as he climbs out to the van and motions for the driver to open up the van and pull out their cargo.

"I still don't know why we need him," Ian yawns bored as he props himself up on the hood of his jeep whilst Garry and the driver drag the body from the back of the van till they have the prisoner kneeling at Ian's feet.

"I told you, he's an established name and he owes us. Loyalty can be bought or it can be indebted to you. Mr Esteban here is indebted to us, isn't that right Julio?" Pulling the hood off the groaning prisoner, Ian watches disinterestedly as Julio Esteban looks wildly about him, his eyes darting back and forth between Ian and Gary. He clearly sees more of a friend in Lt. Walker because he turns away from Ian to hold his hands out pleadingly at Gary whilst mumbling something against his gag.

Ripping the duct tape from Julio's mouth Gary gives the dealers red cheek a gentle slap. "What's going on? Where am I?" Julio manages to whisper through his horse throat as his eyes widen at the flash of Gary's badge. "You're cops? I was found not guilty! You have no right to do-"

But before Julio can finish Ian hits out with lightning fast relaxes, causing Julio's head to snap back and then kicks him in the stomach making Julio double over with pain till he is a writhing mess of blood and piss on the floor. "And who do you think paid off the courtroom to make that happen!"

"Enough," Gary snaps making Ian step back behind the Lieutenant. "We _are_ cops and we are here to extend PR's hand of friendship. Get the package."

Moving around the jeep, never breaking eye contact with the scared but angry prisoner, Ian opens the passenger side of the jeep and pulls out an old duffle bag. The bag was heavy but Ian barely felt the weight, his whole body was on fire with adrenaline as he fought the urge to ignore Gary's orders and put Esteban down like the dog he was. It was the least the scum deserved.

"We have a present," Gary adds as he takes the bag from Ian and drops it next to Julio's head. "Show him."

Crouching down Ian opens the bag to reveal several bricks of coke and cash. "All yours," Ian smiles as he tilts the contents so that Esteban can see the offer clearly. "You sell for us now. _Your life_ is ours now."

"I would never betray the cartels!" Esteban replies stubbornly but before he can spit in Ian's face Ian has his gun cocked and the muzzle of his glock in Esteban's mouth.

"What my friend here is trying to say Julio, is that you agree to our terms or you die here today."

"Then kill me," Esteban grunts around the muzzle of the gun making Ian tisk sadly.

"We thought you might say that," Gary smiles menacingly as he pulls a folded up picture from his pocket and holds it inches from Esteban's face. "Which is why after popping you Ian here is going to pay your sister a visit, Elaina, is it?"

"Really pretty that one…think I might take my time, I like it when they kick," Ian licks his lips tantalizingly as Esteban struggles angrily against his bonds whilst spitting profanities around the muzzle of the gun that Ian forces deeper into his mouth.

"Did you know that Ian here is quite apt at torture Julio?"

"Breaking people to the point where they kill themselves…it's an art really."

"OK!" Julio cries angrily as Ian slips the gun out of his mouth and wipes the muzzle clean on Julio's shirt.

"Just in case you're lying I'll hold on to this…" Ian smiles his cat like grin as he takes the picture from Gary and slips it in to his pocket before standing up and getting back into the driver's side of his dad's old jeep, his whole body shaking with disgust. He hated playing the role of the psycho it came uncomfortably naturally for his liking and he wouldn't be the first undercover cop to blur the lines between the psycho and the cop. It was all about control and Ian was worried that after six months he might be losing his.

"That was beautifully played," Gary grins when he gets inside the car ten minutes later. "Julio and I finished the negotiation, he'll sell the drugs for us and we won't kill everyone he loves."

"A fair trade," Ian forces a laugh as he pulls out of the parking lot, letting Gary's man in the van to handle cleaning up Esteban. "Where next?"

"You've really proved yourself to the organisation these past six months, tonight you get promoted. So I suggest next you head into town to buy yourself a nicer shirt!"

Snorting with laughter, Ian makes his way into downtown LA, the whole time obsessing over the poker match later. This was it, the break he had been working towards…or at least he really hoped it was. Ian was growing tired of playing bad cop and he was growing even more tired of the guilt over pretending to kill Don.

He knew Don was desperate to go home and Ian really wanted to give that to him, almost as much as he wanted to leave town. Ian was a rolling stone, he'd tried to put down roots, but that just wasn't him. Six months was probably the second longest amount of time that Ian had ever spent in LA and Ian longed to feel the power of a bike under him as he skipped town.

 _Almost_ he whispered to himself, he could feel it….they were getting close.


	13. Chapter 13

**13**

*"Curiosity. Not good for cats, great for scientists." -Dr. Larry Fleinhardt

Season 2, Episode 8: In Plain Sight.*

*Later that Same Day*

Pulling the t-shirt up roughly over his head, Don sat self-consciously on his motel room bed waiting patiently for Claudia's assessment. "The Grateful Dead?" She asks incredulously referring to the image on his t-shirt as Don squashes the top into a ball and throws it at a neighbouring armchair.

"What? They're legends," Don defends the band as Claudia leans in and starts inspecting the red scar on his shoulder.

"I know that they're legends," She replies sarcastically, "I suppose I'm just not used to seeing you out of a suit is all…"

"When Ian shot me, it wasn't like I could go home and pack a bag," Don replies sardonically, then feels bad for snapping, she was only trying to help after all. "How's the shoulder looking doc?" He ask quickly to change the subject.

"For a dead man, it looks like it's healing remarkably well," Claudia smiles as she moves behind him to inspect the twin scar on the back of his shoulder where the bullet had exited his body. "Lift your arm for me." Raising his arm a little, Don stops before he can raise it above his head. "Good," She nods pleased. "You lifted it a little higher this time and you only winced a little."

"It still hurts a bit," He admitts grudgingly. "More so on days like today," He gestures with his good arm towards the window and the rain that was constantly buffeting itself against the filthy glass. The storm had moved in quickly, Don was lucky to get back to his hotel, once the game had ended, and not get caught out in it.

"You won't like me saying it, but you are no spring chicken Mr Eppes. The shoulder has healed but when Ian shot you the bullet did damage to the muscles in your shoulder…"

"Just say it," Don snaps tiredly as he gets up to retrieve a fresh t-shirt from the wardrobe.

"It's been six months…I don't think you will regain much more motion in the shoulder. Have you been keeping up with the physio in your hand?"

"I have, but my grip isn't any stronger for it…"

"You need to keep trying…"

"I am trying!" Don shouts angrily as he struggles into the new t-shirt.

"Don…"

"Look, you don't have to say it ok; I know you still think I'm crazy for letting him shoot me. Maybe I am, but it had to be convincing. They were threatening my family. I'd have let him kill me for real if I thought it would keep them safe. So please, it's been six months…stop moaning about how reckless I was and just be my friend."

"Ok, no more moaning. How is the investigation going?"

"Ian is meeting some of the top brass tonight, we're hoping he'll finally find out who the boss is and then it's over…"

"And then you can go home," She smiles encouragingly as Don moves past her to stare vacantly out the motel's dim window. "Don?" she asks worriedly as she watches his body hunch in on itself. "You don't think you can go home…" She states numbly as she watches the muscles in his back tighten at her words. "You don't think she'll forgive you…"

"Would you?" Don asks aghast as he turns to face her, his face scrunching up in anguish and despair.

"I…I don't know," Claudia replies honestly, at a loss for anything comforting to say in the face of his raw emotion.

"Thanks for the check-up Clau," Don replies quietly as he irons out his face and the mask of cool detachment reforms once more. "If you don't mind," He says stiltedly as he moves over to the door and opens it. "I'd like to be alone now, I have work I should be doing."

"Ok Don," She nods sadly as she grabs her bag and umbrella and moves over to the open door. "Just…try to stay positive…please?"

"I'll try," Don replies ruefully, but she could see the tension still in his body. Don had lost all hope of a happy reunion with his family and his promise to try and stay positive was just an empty one.

*Meanwhile*

Smiling happily to himself, Charlie marvels at how good it feels to hold Amita in his arms again and subconsciously tightens his grasp on her as if she were a mirage that could disappear at any moment. "I've missed this," Charlie whispers against the top of her head as he breathes in the rich scent of her silky black hair. "I missed you…I was just too proud to go to New York and tell you as much."

"It's not you who needs to apologise," She replies huskily, her voice thick with emotion as she tilts her head up to face his. "I shouldn't have left…not the way I did at least. You needed me, you were grieving…I should have had more patience…"

"I was a drunken mess…I would have left me! I don't blame you for leaving," Charlie sighs sadly as he moved his hand to caress her soft cheek. "I'm ashamed to say that it took Nick dying and me forgiving Don for me to put the bottle down. I haven't had a drink in six months…it's not much but I hope you'll believe me when I promise that I'm done with all that."

"Dylan told me that he thought you were drinking again…"

"All Colby's I swear. I love you. I'm not the man I was two years ago."

"It's not that easy," Amita replies hesitantly as she moves out of Charlie's embrace to sit up and face him properly. "We had problems long before you picked up the bottle."

"I know…but I've forgiven Don."

"That's easy to say now that he's dead."

"I forgave him before that," Charlie explains quietly as he takes her hand in his and links their fingers. "I know that our dad helped Don out on that case because it was his choice. I've accepted that he was aware of the risk but went anyway. I blamed Don for so long for putting our father in harm's way. But it was dad who did that. Just as you and I put ourselves in harm's way for Don for years as consultants. At the time I needed someone to blame. I was angry and Don was the obvious choice…but I was wrong. Because of what dad did a serial killer was sent to death row. No one knows construction like our dad. He found 'Stromboli's' victims. He did that…at some point I guess I realised that he would have thought the sacrifice worth it. He bought those families closure…he did that. I wish he could have been there to see Beth returned to her parents…I wish he could know how proud I am of him…" Voice cracking up with emotion, Charlie looked away ashamed but Amita quickly turned his face back and kissed him.

"He knew and he was just as proud of you and Don. It would have broken his heart to know that you had been at odds over his death. That's what hurt most I guess," Amita admits softly as she ran her free hand through his soft curls. "I was watching the man I love disappear-"

"-He's still here," Charlie cuts her off as he lifts their clasped hands to his heart and smiles sardonically, "If you'll have him back."

"Like I said…it's just not that easy…"

"It is if you let it," Charlie whispers, holding his breath in anticipation of what he wanted to say next. "I want you to come back home."

"Charlie…"

"It's ok; you don't have to decide anything right now."

"I'll think about it."

"That's good enough for me," Charlie smiles happily as he moves closer to Amita until she was in his arms once more and she could feel his want pressing into her hip. "In the meantime how about I try and do my best to convince you."

"Mmmm I don't know," She sighs playfully as his hand moves to her breast and starts a slow tantalising caress. "I might need a lot of convincing."

"That's ok, I have nowhere better to be," Charlie laughs against her neck as he drops little butterfly kisses down her jaw and along her neck on the way to her clavicle.

"Hey Charles," Colby's rough voice can suddenly be heard from downstairs, "You in here?"

"Fuck," Charlie swears against her hot skin as he jumps up suddenly and rushes to grab his pants from the floor where Amita had tossed them earlier. "Two secs, I'll be right down!"

"Be quick, Don's waiting!" Colby replies from below making Charlie freeze as Amita frowns at him questioningly.

"What does he mean 'Don's waiting'?" She asks confused as she gets up and pulls her skirt on before grabbing her cardigan up off the floor and quickly pulling it shut across her tight breasts.

"You got someone up there chuck?" Colby asks equally confused until Charlie and Amita head down the stairs to face the muscled agent who only laughs when he sees them together. "About time you came home," Colby smiles warmly as he gives Amita a welcoming hug.

"We were just…" Charlie stammers at a loss for a good explanation.

"I know what you were just," Colby winks naughtily as he playfully punches Charlie on the arm.

"What did you mean when you said 'keep Don waiting'?" Amita askes ignoring Colby's cocky grin making Colby's smile waver momentarily.

"I was supposed to be giving Charlie a lift to the cemetery to visit Don's grave." Colby lies smoothly, barely missing a beat.

"Just like Charlie's only 'doing research'," Amita counters quietly as she gestures at the blackboards. "I was offered an assistant professorship in mathematics at Harvard and I worked with you guys at the FBI for just under twenty years," She tells Colby sternly. "I recognise a behavioural algorithm based on the theory of gang relationships and terrorist cells when I see one. What's really going on? You want me to come home, tell me the truth."

"Don's alive," Charlie admits quickly before Colby could tell him not to. "There is a secret group of corrupt agents, police officers and lawyers called PR and we are running an undercover investigation to root out its members and stop them…we think they had Nick murdered."

"Don't sugar coat it for her Charlie," Colby replies sarcastically as Amita sinks into the nearest chair in shock.

"What does that have to do with Don being alive and does Robin know?"

"Don faked his death because they were threatening his family and no…Robin doesn't know but Brandon and Marc do." Charlie replied quietly as he moved over to Amita and knelt before her. "You can't tell her either…Don has sacrificed a lot for this investigation…who knows what Robin will do if she found out the truth now…"

Before she could stop herself Amita slaps Charlie across the cheek, hard and pulls her hands away from his when he attempts to hold them. "How could you go along with this?"

"Don didn't give Charlie a choice. He didn't give any of us a choice," Colby answers for Charlie as he moves over to Amita and holds her angry glare with his own hard stare. "He and Ian acted alone. No one else was supposed to be involved but we both worked out the truth and here we are."

"It's all so…wrong," Amita shook her head in disgust. "And I suppose you expect me to stay quiet!"

"You didn't see it Amita. _You weren't there._ " Charlie replies accusingly as he stands up and moves over to an open file on his desk and grabs a photo before moving back over to her. "This is what they did to Nick, all because he had a file on them. A file he had Robin give to Don in the event of his death. This would have been Don if he hadn't faked his death. Trust me. Right now, no one is suffering worse than Don."

"I just…I don't know what you want me to say…" Amita replies uncertainly as she turns away from the gruesome crime scene photo of Nick butchered and displayed on the FBI Lady Justice statue. Charlie was right. She hadn't been there. "Would you have told me if Colby hadn't come here?"

"No. Not until I'd asked Don if I could read you in."

"Read me in? You sound like Ian," She spat reproachfully, angry but unsure who to direct it at. Charlie? Or Colby, who had yet to respond. "You told me that you weren't the same man you were before I left…you're right, you're harder now…you aren't the man I feel in love with…"

"And you aren't the woman I fell in love with," Charlie sighed tiredly as he took a seat opposite his wife, for they never had made it official and divorced. "Had Don told me what he planned before he did it, I might have advised him against it…I can't say for certain because he didn't give me that chance. I can say though that were the roles reversed…if it meant protecting you and Dylan…I can't say that I wouldn't do the same."

"What do you plan to do next?" Colby asks suddenly, cutting across all the bullshit, as far as he was concerned they could make up later.

"You said Don is waiting for you."

"Yes."

"Then I'm coming with you and if I'm not satisfied with his explanation then I'm going to Robin with the truth," Amita replies coldly as she stands up and grabs her bag.

"Charles…" Colby gestures at Amita with an expression of 'sort out your woman' but Charlie only shakes his head sadly and moves over to where Amita is waiting angrily. All he wanted was to be back up in that bed showing her how much he loved her…how had Don's bad choices managed to blow back on him so spectacularly?

"Don's not going to like this," Colby grumbles quietly to himself as he opens the garage door and leads the way to his black SUV.

*Later*

Looking around the table with interest, Ian wondered at what point he had started finding it normal to be spending his evening in the presence of hardened criminals…at what point he had started feeling like he was one of them…

"I see your hundred and raise it five," Pushing his chips forward, Ian grins mischievously at the only man left in the hand. "Your call," He whispers seductively, like a devil enticing his prey to sell his soul.

"I don't have five hundred left," Ian's adversary scowls unhappily as he looks at his cards before squinting back at Ian.

"The way I see it," Ian replies cockily as he stretches his legs out and lazily sits back in his chair, "Your hand is either good enough that you would have called 'all in' without much thought and we'd be flipping cards right now…or you should have bluffed, called 'all in' with as much bravado as you could muster and try to 'scare me out'. The fact that you didn't, means that your hand is mediocre at best. So now out of respect I will give you this piece of advice. Look at your hand and ask yourself: Is my hand worth it? Or should I fold and see if my next hand is better for risking the last of my money? Because I assure you Senator, my hand is good enough to beat yours if you call 'all in'."

"You're full of bullshit," Senator Fillmore hisses with annoyance as he gives his hand one last look before chucking them across the table at Lt Walker who was the dealer for the round. "But you're right my cards aren't good enough to risk the last of my money."

"A wise move Senator," Ian nods approvingly as he passes his cards to Gary.

"You aren't going to show us?" SAIC Helen Griffin of the ATF laughs as she shakes her head sadly. "That's just cold Edgerton…"

"You didn't pay for the privilege," Gary scolds mockingly as he makes a show of looking at the cards himself and shakes his head disbelievingly. "He was bluffing," Gary looks incredulously at Ian who raises a mocking eyebrow in reply. "You were duped Harry he only had a pair of deuces."

"Still beat my Ace high!" Harry shrugs as he gets up to get another beer from the fridge making everyone laugh.

"Your next deal," Gary tells CSI James Knolls, who takes the cards quietly and starts to shuffle the deck. Unlike Ian who was uncomfortably at ease with the lieutenants of PR, James was noticeably out of his element and Ian was sure he wasn't the only one to have noticed.

"You are quiet tonight James," Rob Sacco an FBI forensic accountant comments curiously, echoing Ian's own concern.

"I'm just tired," James attempts to laugh off Sacco's concern as he begins dealing the cards out.

"So tired that you almost fucked up the Esteban case?" Rob enquires gently as he lifts the cards up by the corners and smiles at what he sees. Something Ian noticed he only does when he has a couple of nice base cards but is relying heavily on a turn up.

"It wasn't my fault!" James replies edgily as he too looks at his cards but with zero interest. It was clear to Ian that James was intentionally playing bad to lose his money and leave as soon as possible. "The clerk came back. He could have identified me!"

"That's why you take care of it," Gary replies gruffly as he swirls his whiskey about in its glass watching the ice cubes click. He had good base cards and he was trying to play it cool.

"I don't appreciate having to clean up your messes," Ian replies gravely as he ignores his cards and pays the anti, busy watching the others reactions to their cards to worry about his own right now.

"Cleaned it up how?" James looks at Ian with shock as Fillmore taps his fingers on top of his cards, a tick he got when he was happy with his cards but didn't want to show it.

"How do you think?" Helen rolls her eyes as she looks down at her hand and her mouth twitches into a smile. She was bluffing though. She normally curled her hair around her finger if it was really good.

"Let's just say I had to go home and clean my gun after," Ian replies gruffly as James places the top card to one side and turns over the flop. He hadn't really; Ian and Colby had gotten the poor clerk into witness protection under a false name. But no one at the table knew that.

"You killed him…he was only twenty five."

"He was a mistake. Your mistake," Rob frowns with annoyance as he chucks a hundred chip into the middle of the table.

"I know…but…"

"It's not your first mistake either," Fillmore replies sarcastically as he calls and throws a hundred chip into the centre of the table.

"The evidence in Don's case going missing was not my fault it was Samantha's!"

"But it happened on your watch," Gary growls as he throws his cards at James, folding the hand, he obviously didn't get the cards he was hoping for on the flop.

"Besides, she's back at work now isn't she?" Helen adds as she also ditches her hand.

"She is, but she's on probation. She knows I'm watching her every move," James tries to justify as he and Ian both call the hand and he places the top card to the left of the deck again before dealing the turn card.

"What else does she know?" Rob narrows his eyes as he folds the hand leaving Fillmore, James and Ian to fight it out.

"Nothing," James replies adamantly as Fillmore bets another hundred dollars and Ian quickly calls him.

"Gary, check her out anyway. I want to know if she's got potential to be a problem," Rob orders as James meekly ditches his hand, his face going pale.

"It's just you and me again Edgerton," Fillmore laughs heartily, his massive girth rippling from the effort of it.

"Got something this time?" Ian asks as he raises the pot by another fifty and Fillmore quickly calls.

"Does nothing faze you Edgerton?" Rob smiles thinly as he takes in Ian's relaxed posture and easy smile and shakes his head amused. "Can anything pierce that easy smile and cocky exterior I wonder?"

"You know what they called him in the Army don't you?" Helen smiles sexily, her pert little mouth curving up at the corners as Ian pretends to squirm uncomfortably.

"Don't say it," Ian laughs as he feigns shyness.

"What?" Gary laughs audibly, unlike Ian; Gary was quickly on his way to being buzzed.

"The bastard _son_ of Clint Eastwood and _Yoda_ ," Helen laughs heartily as James places the last card to the left and flips over the river card, he looked relieved to have the attention pulled away from him again.

"Well Edgerton?" Fillmore smiles happily as he pushes his last chip forward and grins happily. "All in."

Looking down, Ian assesses his cards for a moment before responding. "The flop wasn't very helpful or you would have gone all in sooner…so the question is do you have a better straight than mine?" Ian smiles as he decides whether or not to match Fillmore's call. He and Walker had bought more than enough money with them from the Esteban case that he could cover the pot he was just debating letting Senator Fillmore win. Coming in and winning every other pot was not a way to make friends…so against his better judgement Ian chucks his cards to James next to him and smiles. "I fold."

Whooping with joy, Fillmore reaches his fat meaty hands across the table and draws the chips closer to him. It wasn't a huge stash, but it would keep him in the game for a couple more rounds at least.

Grabbing his beer, Ian smiles happily as he downs a large pull and for the first time in his life doesn't see the shot coming. As Ian drops the beer in shock he looks down at the blood spattered across his top before touching the hot wet drops on his cheek with his slim fingers. "Why…?" He whispers confused as he turns his ringing head to his left and takes in James's body slumped against the table.

Pulling James's body back against the chair, Ian takes in the fatal wound to the forehead before looking across the table at Rob who had laid the smoking gun down next to his chips as he considered Ian's question.

"Because the boss ordered it," Rob shrugs as Gary scoops up the blood splattered cards and straightens the deck before handing them to Ian.

"Your deal," Gary looks meaningfully at Ian who takes the cards in his shaking hands, and ignoring the bile clogging his throat begins to deal the next round.

*That Night*

The last six months had been hell for Robin. In a single horrifying moment she had watched her whole world come crashing down around her. One moment Don was standing and the next he was on the floor covered in blood with a gibbering Colby trying to stop the bleeding...and the screams...her screams...they still haunted her...

But she was coping, or at least that was what she was telling everyone.

In truth all Robin had managed to achieve was a new level of numbness that somehow allowed her to go through the motions of life without really having to participate. She looked after the kids and she went to work and then she slept, or at least she tried to, and then she got up and she did it all over again.

Was it sustainable? Probably not. Was it heathy? Definitely not. Was she currently tailing her oldest son in the attempt to find out what he was hiding...unfortunately yes...

Pushing down on the left indicator Robin puts her foot down on the accelerator as she rushes through the lights on amber to keep up with Marc's car Mondale. _I'm crazy;_ she tells her self sternly as she lets a car cut in in front of her to maintain a distance between the two cars, _I mean this is freaking nuts!_ She curses silently as she follows her son's car as he travels further and further into downtown LA.

 _Only, maybe it wasn't nuts…it was after midnight on a school night after all…_

Needless to say following him wasn't how she had intended spending her night…she hadn't meant to…it had just sort of happened…honest!

One minute she had heard him sneaking into the garage and the next she was grabbing her keys and jumping behind the wheel, leaving Brandon to keep an eye on Gracie. She just knew that she had to find out what was going on with her son. She needed to know the truth for her own sanity…was her son using? She hadn't found any proof when searching his room, but that didn't make him innocent. He was clearly sneaking somewhere, if not drugs, then what?

Following Mondale as Marc pulls into the parking lot of a dingy motel, Robin's heart leaps into her throat. What if he's mixed up in something illegal…? She hadn't really thought about worse scenarios than drugs, now she realised that was naive. Marc had been portraying all the classic signs of a criminal…but _her_ son? The honour student…the boy who had wanted to join the FBI since he had been old enough to say the letters…no Marc was up to something else…

Parking the car Robin reaches into the glove compartment and pulls out Don's spare gun. She didn't know what mess Marc was mixed up in but she wasn't taking any chances. Making sure that the safety is on, Robin lifts up the back of her top and tucks the gun into the back of her jeans before getting out of the car and following Marc across the parking lot as he heads towards a room on the ground floor of the motel.

Careful to stick to the shadows, Robin watches as her son looks around himself suspiciously, and fears for a moment that he might notice her but dressed in black, as she was still in morning, Robin was practically invisible as Marc reaches out and taps gently against the motel door.

She didn't know if it was paranoia or her imagination running away from her, but she was sure that the knock sounded familiar, like something Don would come up with as a secret password…just thinking about Don made her heart squeeze painfully and Robin started to worry that she was making a stupid mistake. It was Marc, her beautiful boy. Since Don's death he had put his little sister to sleep and read her a story every night. He went to the grocery store every Tuesday and Friday because he knew Robin would forget…he had stepped up and become the man of the house in the last six weeks…and here she was spying on him in the middle of the night. He was eighteen; she should be trusting him…

Turning away out of guilt, Robin starts to head back towards her car when she hears the sounds of footsteps coming down a side ally. Ducking instinctively behind the ice machine, Robin watches as Marc turns and greets the new arrivals.

Pulse racing and heart in throat, Robin can't help herself as she peeks curiously out from behind the ice machine to see Colby, Charlie and Amita. _What the…_ She asks herself confused as she watches Colby take a key from his pocket and open the door for the others. They were talking quietly, so Robin couldn't hear much but straining her ears anyway, Robin did her best to listen to the conversation.

"Aunty Amita?" Marc asks confused, so her appearance was news to him as well as Robin.

"…get inside…"

"Where is he?"

"Getting dinner…"

Risking another peek from her hiding spot, Robin watches as they all filter inside the dingy motel room before turning on the light and pulling the blinds tightly shut.

"Marc…" She whispers softly into the night. "What are you up to?" Confused and unsure what to do next, Robin crouches down behind the ice machine and considers what she's seen and heard. From what she could gather, her son was helping Colby and Charlie solve Don's murder. She had no doubts that must be what they were up to. It had made no sense to her when it had seemed like Charlie and Colby had given up. She just couldn't understand why they were being so clandestine about it all…why none of them had told her…

 _They're sparing your feelings._

"I'm a big girl I could handle knowing that they were looking for Don's killer."

 _But what if they don't?_

"Then I would cope…"

 _Like you've been coping these past six months?_

Hating the little voice in her head, Robin decides to make sense of everything later. Her son wasn't shooting up or getting involved with a gang…it was time for her to leave.

Standing up and stepping out from her hiding spot, Robin quickly spins around and pretends to be getting ice as a figure comes along the corridor, passing right past her. She didn't know why she felt the need to hide her face in the ice machine, call it instinct, but as the footsteps stopped close by, Robin decided to sneak a quick look.

It was a man, tall and solid looking, wearing black jeans and a hoody. In the gloom of the motel's forecourt Robin saw nothing worth noting about the figure but as the man had stopped in front of the same room that Marc and the others had just entered, Robin can't help but try and take a longer look as the figure pauses momentarily, hovering with his key half way to the lock.

Tensing up, Robin continues to pretend to scoop ice into a bucket she had found on top of the machine as she listens to the man pocket the keys and do the secret knock instead.

When the sound of the door being pulled open greets her ears, Robin decides to sneak one last look and almost drops the bucket in shock.

Illuminated by the room's cheap neon lighting, Robin watches paralysed as Don greets their son with a fierce hug before entering the motel room and closing the door behind them.

"No…" She stammers to herself as she drops the bucket, her grasp finally giving way as her knees buckle beneath her and she falls to the floor. Before she can hit the pavement however, two strong arms catch her and pull her back to her feet.

"You're ok," Ian's warm voice tells her reassuringly as he swivels her around to face him, but the shock of seeing her dead husband and all the blood on Ian was too much for her buzzing head. "Please don't faint again," He pleads tiredly and something about his drained and less than usual cocky self seems to penetrate the cloud of disbelief that was currently circulating her confused brain.

"Are _you_ ok?" She asks unsure as Ian takes her hand in his and leads her away from the motel.

"Don't look back," Ian warns quietly as she heard the door open behind them as someone presumably pokes their head out to investigate the sound of the bucket crashing to the ground, spilling a ton of ice on the dirty sidewalk.

"Don…?" Robin croaks as a well of confused and angry thoughts come flooding to the forefront of her tired brain. "I thought I just saw…"

"You did."

"He's alive?" Robin swallows hard as she does her best to squash the sarcastic voice in her head and focus on Ian's words. _Don's alive…_ "I saw him die…" She whispers numbly as she gives up assessing her emotions and focuses on the man next to her. "I watched him die."

"No Rob…you watched him pretend to die."

"He was shot."

"I know, I shot him."

"You did what?!"

"You need answers I get that…and I will explain everything…we just can't do that here."

"But I need to see him…I…need to tell him…I don't know what to say to him…"

"One hour, give me one hour and I will tell you everything…one hour and you will understand why I can't let you go back to that motel room," Ian pleads quietly as he continues to lead her away.

"Where are we going?" Robin asks nervously as she plants her feet in place and refuses to go anywhere until he starts making sense of everything.

"There's a little diner near here. We can talk there."

"And you'll explain everything? Like why you have blood on your face? Whose blood is it Ian?"

"Not here." Ian hisses uncomfortably as a young woman and an old man squeeze past them to head to the stairs to one of the upper motel rooms.

" _Ian_ … _?_ "

" _Please Rob_ ," Ian goads her tiredly as he places his hand on the small of her back and starts guiding her away from the motel again. If he is surprised to feel the gun tucked into the back of her pants, he doesn't show it.

 _He's alive…Don's alive…w_ as all she could think the entire way to the small diner.

 _That fucking bastard!_


	14. Chapter 14

**14**

 _*"What's the first thing a New Yorker notices about L.A.?" –David Sinclair_

" _No good pizza."_ _ **-**_ _Megan Reeves_

" _Okay, what's the second thing?" -_ __ _David Sinclair_

 _Season 2, Episode 21: Rampage*_

*Hours Later*

As the sun slowly climbs its way above the horizon and casts its golden glow upon the city, Robin marvels at how something so mundane and familiar could feel so different...so...corrupted. However, listening to Ian talk all night, Robin realised that it wasn't the city that had changed it was her. Or at least something inside of her. It felt strange, like she was only just waking up from a really long sleep.

Not a whole lot had really happened in the last few hours, Ian had talked, Robin had listened... _oh what he'd had to say!_ Maybe it _was_ the city that had changed because Robin certainly felt like everything she had ever known...ever trusted...was somehow tainted now. All her life, she had worked to uphold the law. She had believed in the whole 'truth and justice' thing, and to have Ian tell her that it was all just some line? Made up by the Government? Because who knew how deep PR's roots went. From what Ian had to say they went pretty far… _God listen to her, the conspiracy nut!_

"Have you thought about what I asked you earlier?" Ian asks politely, gently waking her from her reverie, she didn't know how long he had given her to think, but from the sun's steady climb upwards a few hours had passed. Ian's patience astonished her.

"Tell me...what do you see when you look out the window?" Robin asks quietly, skirting the question, though not intentionally as she was still trying to process everything.

"I don't understand the question," Ian replies robotically as he stares at her in confusion. For the first few hours he had talked to her cautiously, like something as fragile as a porcelain doll or as unstable as a grenade that had lost its pin.

"It all looks the same," She muses quietly, "but it's not..."

"I guess I've lived in too many war zones to notice," Ian ponders thoughtfully.

"LA is hardly a war zone," Robin chastises gently as she turns her head to look out the window once more. The sun was just poking out above the tallest buildings and Robin was dazzled by its light.

"Isn't it?" Ian quirks his eyebrow up suggestively as he too quietly turns to take in the sunrise.

"I guess it is, just not by your usual standards," She admits reluctantly as she turns her face to consider Ian's profile, so calm…so unmoved.

"I guess I just gave up believing that this sort of thing doesn't happen. That our Government doesn't _let_ it happen. You work for enough intelligence agencies over the years and you come to realise that we only ever really see the tip of the iceberg; the stuff that they can't stop from leaking. People, weapons, secrets, they can all be traded…everything has a price and back ally deals happen with or without our knowledge every single day."

"That's quite a jaded point of view," Robin whispers surprised at the bitter edge to Ian's voice. "What's happened to you between now and leaving LA last? You look thinner…"

"I've always been this cynical Robin; but you're right. Your husband once asked me if I ever get tunnel vision being on a man hunt for this long. I laughed him off, told him I don't. Hunting chose me you see, it's my life…it's literally my job to put my head inside the mind of a killer and on occasion…like in this case…play the part of one…I'm just worried that…"

"You're worried that the whole thing has tainted you somehow…that it's corrupting you," Robin finishes the sentence for him. "Funny…I was looking out the window just now thinking the same thing. Has the rest of the world changed? Or just me?"

"Does that mean that you've thought about what I've asked?"

"You made your case quite perfectly. You tried to speak to the rational part of me that knows that what you ask is the best and most logical solution to the situation at hand," Robin smiles ruefully for the first time in a long time. "You would have made a good lawyer; it really was a spectacular closing argument."

"But?"

"Have you ever lost someone Ian? Someone you loved more than life? Is there a woman out there that you grieve for?"

"Once…a life time ago…in another city in another part of the world when I was but a young recruit in the army…there was such a person. What's your point?"

"My point is that if you could go a few minutes down the road, knock on a door and know that they will answer the door…would you listen to anyone who tells you that the logical thing is to go home, forget about ever being there and carry on pretending to yourself and the rest of the world that you are still in the dark?" Reaching across the table, Robin takes Ian's rough hands in hers. "He may not have actually been dead…but to me, for the past six months he has. I've missed him, I would play the 'what if' game till I would fall asleep…playing my last words to him over and over again in my head. Do you know what those words were Ian?"

"No."

"Neither do I."

"But…"

"I took a phone call. Before the conference Brandon ran over to Don but I took a phone call. I don't think I even saw him properly that morning. My last words were probably no more profound than 'don't forget to get milk on your way home'."

"But you know now that those won't be your last words to him, I'm just asking you to postpone the scolding so that Don doesn't get distracted when he most needs to be focused," Ian tries to reason with her but Robin was already shaking her head as she smiled sadly.

"Because what you are doing is dangerous. My family's lives are on the line. I know."

"Then you know that I don't ask this of you to be cruel."

"Ian. What if he dies for real?"

"What?"

"What if I do as you ask? I go home; I pretend that I am none the wiser. Don goes out on one of your little spying sessions, is made and shot for real. What if he dies for real and I had a chance to see him now and didn't. I can't go back to wondering what my last words were. I'm sorry…but I _need_ to see him. Surely you can see that?"

"I can. But for the record…if it was me…if I knew that Talia was a few minutes down the road and I could knock on a door and she would answer it. I wouldn't go."

"That's easy for you to say…"

"It's true. If I knew going there and seeing her would put her safety in jeopardy…as hard as it would be…I'd walk away." Ian whispers sadly as he pulls his hands back. "And I'm not just saying that to get you to do what I want. I really did walk away."

"…is she?"

"Dead…no. She lives in Baltimore. She works at John Hopkins as head of Trauma. She has a husband now, two kids and a dog. She's happy and has the life she always wanted…that _we_ always wanted."

"I'm sorry…"

"Don't be. I wanted that once…but two tours in Afghanistan and the man who came back wasn't the one who left. You have a choice to make…sounds like you've made it. But in case…here is my number. I will keep you updated when I can."

"Where are you going?"

"To Gary's, we need to deal with James's body…"

"…Ok."

"Ok what?" Ian asks confused as he pulls on his jacket ready to leave.

"Marc will have gotten home ages ago and Brandon will be worried sick about me. I should really _go home_."

"Thank you Robin."

"I guess my rationality won out, it's why _I_ make such a good lawyer."

"I'll walk you back to your car," Ian nods sadly as Robin pulls on her coat and follows him out of the old diner. They were lucky that it was a twenty-four hour one for they had spent the whole night talking. Robin was just worried about how long that luck would last.

 _Don't you dare die on me!_

Leading the way, Ian walks briskly from the small diner back to Robin's car, anxious to be on his way again. Convincing her to not see Don had taken longer than expected and had been more emotionally draining than he'd thought it would be... _what's this a conscience?_ Shaking his head, Ian shoves his hands deep in his pockets and ups the pace, he needed to go home and change before meeting Gary to bury James's body... _sheesh, when had sentences like that become so normal too him?_ Either way he was too tired to ponder it now...

Watching conflicted, mouth set to a grim line, Ian stops by Robin's car and waits patiently as she makes for the driver's side. There wasn't really anything left to say, and yet Ian felt compelled to say something. "Thank you Rob," He grunts embarrassedly, stopping her in her tracks as she opens the driver's door to get in. "I know I ask too much..."

"No," She shakes her head understandingly, "You ask just enough." Closing the door, Robin walks back over to Ian until their bodies are only separated by the slightest of margins. "It's ok, honestly...just do me a favour and keep him alive ok? There is a reckoning to be had but...ultimately I just want him home. _Deal?_ "

 _"Deal!"_ Smiling his relief, Ian reaches out and gives her shoulders a gentle squeeze and is surprised when Robin takes a step forward, stands up on her tip toes and kisses him briefly on his stubbled jaw.

"What was that for?" He asks confused, as she opens the car door once more and climbs inside.

"You're a good man Ian Edgerton; don't let your doubts tell you otherwise. Sometimes it's possible that what feels like the wrong thing is actually the right thing to do."

"Who said that?"

"My father."

"Should have known, it sounded too much like a lawyer's logic," Ian smiles ruefully as he closes the door for her and waves her off as she pulls out of the motel's small car park and into the early morning downtown traffic.

Turning around to head to Don's motel room to touch base quickly, Ian is shocked to find Gary blocking his path. "Gary?"

"Hello kid, I think we need to have a little chat about a few things, don't you?" Gesturing at Ian's jeep, Gary motion's for Ian to get in.

"We're you following me?" Ian asks afraid, his heart beating a million beats per second as his tired and scrambled brain races to work out how much Gary could have seen or heard.

"I introduced you to three of the biggest players in PR last night, you honestly didn't think we would let you sit at the table and then not check up on where you go next? Did you?"

"You just surprised me, that's all," Ian replies reluctantly between gritted teeth as he tosses up his options. His cover was either blown or it wasn't, either way he didn't really have a choice but to get in the car with Gary. "Do you want to drive or should I?" He adds in a way that he hopes sounds unconcerned of Gary's choice. Secretly he wanted to drive because he knew he had a pistol taped to the underneath of his steering wheel for easy access… _you know, worst case scenario and all that…_

"You can drive," Gary smiles, though it's hard for Ian's tired brain to work out if it's genuine or not.

"Sure thing," Ian forces a smile on his face as he climbs into the jeep and turns on the ignition. "Where to?"

"How about that little spot we went too when we first discussed your role in PR? Seems appropriate," Gary smiles again, this time with a hint of steel. There was something he wasn't saying, like he was hinting at a joke that Ian wasn't privy to.

"Appropriate how?" Ian asks confused as he climbs in the car and feels with his knee to check that the gun was still there. _Phew, it was._

"You'll see when you get there. In the meantime, you know I have to ask."

"Ask what?"

"You and Robin. How long has that been going on?"

"What exactly do you think is going on?"

"I think that you are banging the wife of the man you killed to get into PR."

"Is that a problem?" Ian replies nonchalantly whilst his brain scrambles to put together a believable lie.

"It might be," Gary replies cryptically but refuses to elaborate.

Ian was convinced that his cover couldn't be blown but just in case his hand never strayed far from his concealed pistol, he was driving out to a remote field after all and Ian was never one to take chances.

Closing the door gently behind her, Robin listens quietly for a moment to the sounds of her children's laughter as they go about making their breakfast and to the general noise of them getting ready for school. Her heart pinches with pride at the thought and not for the first time that night she wonders about how she would explain everything to Gracie. Marc and Brandon already knew, and she was cross about that, but more so at Don for putting them in the middle and ultimately for pulling them into his web of lies than at them for lying.

But Gracie...how was Robin going to explain to her sweet little Gracie that her father was just pretending to be dead to catch some really bad men? She supposed she would just have to go about it like that, she knew once Gracie was in her father's arms again she wouldn't care about the why or how of it all, just that her father was alive and home. She was very much her daddy's girl.

For the most part that was what Robin wanted too. Just to be held by him again, to kiss him and have him home, her heart could think of nothing better...but she wasn't five years old, her world wasn't full of absolutes and Don's absence had hurt her. It hurt her pride, it hurt her heart and ultimately it had hurt their family. Don would have to answer for that before Robin would so readily forgive him...

"...Mom?" Marc asks quietly, bringing her back to the present.

"Marc..." Robin replies hesitantly as she takes in her tall son's tense posture, unsure of what to say next.

"Where have you been?" Marc asks eventually, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen between them. Usually Robin had no trouble communicating with her eldest son but this was different, now there were secrets between them and Robin hated Don for that, she also hated Ian for asking her to keep up the lie. No wonder Marc and her relationship had suffered, if he felt even the slightest bit as awkward hiding Don's secrets as she did...well she could understand that he might choose to just say nothing at all... _oh Marc!_

"I was at the office," she replies eventually, and her heart breaks as she sees the slightest pinch of doubt that crosses his face. _He knows..._ her mind races as her heart begins to beat faster in her fragile chest. _He must do...how could he not?_ _Her lies were probably written all over her face!_ "There was an emergency...it took longer than expected..." She adds lamely and is disappointed to see Marc's distrust only deepen as he seems to stop and openly study her face for traces of lies. She knew that he was only looking out for his family, much like Ian claimed Don was, but that didn't mean it didn't break her heart to see naked suspicion on her own son's face!

"What sort of emergency?" He asks after what feels like a decade of silence.

Standing there in the hallway, under Marc's doubtful frown, Robin feels exposed, it was all she could do to try and hold on to her composure. _You are a world class Lawyer!_ She chastises herself furiously; _lying is your bread and butter!_ _So lie better!_

"That's confidential," she replies sternly, adding an edge to her voice that would put an end to the line of questioning. _She was the parent god damn it! Not some rouge teenager that was trying to sneak in the next morning!_

Backing down immediately Marc stands up straight and hovers uncertainly in the doorway, his act of bravado falling, revealing a mixture of hurt and regret. "Sorry," He mumbles gruffly as he looks anywhere but at her. "I was just really worried."

"Darling," She whispers sadly as she rushes to embrace her son. He may be eighteen, but he would always be her baby boy. "I'm sorry I worried you. I told Brendan where I was going though."

"I know but he said you were only supposed to be gone for a couple of hours and then you were gone all night!" She couldn't see his face as it was pressed tightly against her shoulder but Robin heard the definite wobble to his tone.

"Oh Marc," She sighs as realisation hits. He'd thought PR had done something. Ian said that they had people watching the house. What if they had found out about Don and taken Robin? No wonder he had looked so scared. "I'm fine baby. In fact I'm pretty beat…could you please take your brother and sister to school for me?"

"Of course," Stepping back Marc coughs and looks down to hide the unshed tears in his eyes. "Sleep well and…and dream big."

Smiling a watery smile, Robin fights the urge to cry. That was what she always said when she'd bid him goodnight as a boy. She hadn't heard Marc say it in a long time. _Maybe this could be the start of trying to get Marc back on track with school…_ "I will," She nods as she moves over to the stairs before stopping on the first step. "Marc?" She asks hesitantly.

"Yeah mom?"

"Promise me you will start upping your game at school. I have no doubt you will be a great FBI agent one day. But school needs to come before any extracurricular activities…you still need to pass first."

"I promise," Marc replies embarrassed before sending her a suspicious look. He looked like he wanted to ask her about what she knew of his 'extracurricular activities' but thinks better of it and exits into the kitchen to round up his siblings instead.

"Sorry Marc," She whispers sadly as she hides Marc's phone in her pocket. She had picked his pocket during the hug. She didn't know why she'd done it…but then she didn't know why instead of heading upstairs she heads to the front door either. Making sure to close the door quietly behind her, Robin quickly heads down the street towards Gracie's favourite playpark, carefully watching about her the whole way to make sure that she isn't followed. _When had this become her life?_

 _You have a lot to answer for Mr Eppes!_

Pulling to a stop next to the old familiar dirt road, Ian has to silently remind himself to play it cool. After some gentle probing, Ian was about seventy percent sure that his cover was still intact. What could he say? He'd faced worse odds before...in fact from the little he had managed to glean over the duration of the car journey it seemed that the reason Gary was so troubled was because he thought that Ian was carrying out an illicit 'relationship' with Robin.

After replaying the night's events over and over again in his mind's eye, he could see why Gary would have come to that conclusion...Ian was just unsure why it seemed to be plaguing the old Lieutenant so much. Sure on the face of it Ian could see that dating the wife of the man he had supposedly murdered in cold blood might make him look like a monster, but in this world there were only monsters. If he had been a betting man he would have said that Gary would be impressed by Ian's blasé attitude towards ethics, but that didn't seem to be the case this time and Ian's tired brain just couldn't work out why?

Relaxing in his seat, Ian pulls up the handbrake and turns to face his troubled mentor. "Look I can see that the whole Robin thing has thrown you for six, but you should know that she doesn't mean anything to me. I have an itch and she scratches it. If it's that much of a problem, consider it finished."

"It's not that," Gary shakes his head thoughtfully as he considerers his next words carefully. "You should know that I had my reservations about you. When you first joined...I had doubts."

"I expected as much," Ian smiles ruefully at Gary's discomfort. Say what you will for PR and the whole scandal of a group of dirty agents, cops and politicians...Ian had grown to respect the old Lieutenant. It was a shame that they had to find themselves on opposite sides, had the circumstances been different he was sure that they could have been friends. "I wasn't born yesterday; however, I knew that if I was to have a place in PR I would have to prove my loyalty."

"And prove it you have, in fact Sacco was very impressed with what he saw. You didn't flinch Ian and Rob has a need for men who don't flinch."

"Are you saying that Rob is the head of PR?"

"No, but you don't get any closer kid."

"So…what now?"

"Well as you were witness to last night, a seat has just become vacant at the table...and it's yours if you want it." Gary smiles proudly, if not a little hesitantly.

"That's a good thing though...isn't it?" Ian asks confused as he plays subconsciously at a loose thread on the bottom of his steering wheel.

"Yes..."

"Then why do you look so unhappy about it?" Ian frowns as Gary sighs sadly before turning to look Ian in the eye.

"I am happy about it kid. I knew from the off that if you were legit that you would go far...I guess I've just come to rely on you. A seat at the table means you get your own piece of the pie to manage. I will no longer be your handler."

"Oh..." Ian whispers as Gary's words begin to slowly sink in. PR was offering him a leading role. A chance to step up and be the man they believed him to be. They were offering him a controlling interest. And it was a surprisingly tempting offer...if he was only dirty for real…but he wasn't.

Forcing a grin, Ian turns to his mentor and gives him a gentle tap on the shoulder. "We'll still see each other," he laughs softly as Gary gives him a mocking rap on the back of his head.

"I know that you loon!" Gary laughs in reply, didn't mean it didn't hurt him any less, Ian was very much the son Gary had always wished for.

"So…what is my piece of the pie?" Ian asks once the pair had finished laughing and an air of lucidity had returned once more to the cab of Ian's jeep.

"Well you did such a good job with the Esteban mission that Rob thinks that you should take control of the farms and the harvest."

"What about the delivery of goods? Does that fall into my slice?"

"Usually we try to keep the two unrelated, but Rob see's potential in you kid. Your plan to have Esteban's case thrown out, whilst recovering a taste of the goods and then redistributing those goods by turning Esteban into an asset, showed a level of higher thinking that Sacco admired. He says the boss wants to see what you can make of the farms if he puts you in charge of everything. This is a big deal. The boss must really trust you." Gary replies a little awed by the whole request.

"He doesn't trust me enough to meet me though," Ian replies sourly, unable to keep the level of unhappiness at being left in the dark from his voice.

"Few have," Gary admits reluctantly before adding, "I unfortunately am not one of those few."

"You too?" Ian asks surprised as Gary nods sadly.

"It's important that his identity remain a mystery. In fact it's important that most people are unaware of any not directly involved with their cell. Should a link in the chain break or go rouge, he can't take more than his team and immediate superior out. PR survives. The boss is the only one who knows every cog in his machine."

"So what is it about mine and Robin's...time together that has you so worried?" Ian asks confused not seeing why Gary should still be tense about the whole thing.

"Esteban is stepping out of line. You need to nip it in the bud now. You need to make good on your threat to his sister."

"I'm not really going to rape and torture Esteban's sister," Ian replies incredulously. He knew he should probably just pretend to go along with it and help the sister disappear but having already taken that risk with the desk clerk James had brought up at the poker game, Ian was hesitant to try and trick them all again.

"Nor do I expect you to. Don't worry Ian, I know that you will do what's necessary, but that's not necessary yet. I just want you to start dating her. Get in her life. Get real cosy with her, show Esteban that you weren't kidding when you told him his family isn't safe from you."

"Now that I can do."

"And Ian...whilst I personally don't care who...scratches your...er...itch...Sacco would. End it. You'll only be putting Robin in danger if you don't."

"You're right of course," Ian stifles a sigh as he pulls out his mobile and punches in Robin's number. "Shame though, She really is a good lay," Ian adds crudely as he presses the call button and places the phone next to his ear.

"Ian?" Her soft voice comes hesitantly from the other end of the line. "...Everything ok?"

"Yeah...look I'm sorry Rob, but we can't see each other anymore."

"Ian... _I don't understand..._ where is this all coming from?"

"I just have business outside the city to be getting on with...its time I move on from LA...look we both knew this was just a bit of fun...two lost souls in need of comfort..."

" _Comfort_...?"

"Yeah so if you have anything in the room you want to get I suggest you get it now...I'll be back in a few hours and there isn't really a point in having a long good bye."

"Don't worry nothing of mine will be there when you get back." She replies stiffly and then hangs up. Ian wasn't sure if she had gotten his hidden meaning but by the look of incredulous disbelief on Gary's face, at least _he_ hadn't.

"Wow, we really need to talk about your skills with the ladies," Gary laughs gruffly. "You won't charm Esteban's sister that way."

"I'm just bad at goodbyes," Ian shrugs unconcerned as Gary starts getting out of the car. "Where are you off to?"

"We still need to bury James's body," Gary grimaces uncomfortably as he motions for Ian to get out of the car too. "Welcome to PR's graveyard kid."

"You brought me to PR's graveyard the night I gave you the file to burn?" Ian raises an eyebrow as he gets out of the car and follows Gary up the old beaten path.

"Good thing you were legit eh?" Gary only laughs in reply as he grabs a shovel that had been left besides a small mound of bin liners.

"Is that James?" Ian asks uncomfortably as he also takes a shovel and starts helping Gary to dig a trench in the ground.

"Yeah, Sacco and the Senator left him here for us on their way out of town."

"That was nice of them..." Ian frowns distastefully as he notices the body is in several different bags...they had chopped up the body...

"I didn't take you for the squeamish type," Gary pauses and looks up at Ian, suspicion in his tired old eyes.

"I'm not; I'm just thinking about how low to dig the whole."

"Just keep going till I tell you to stop. I'm quite practiced at this now, I can tell just from sight."

 _I'm sorry James,_ Ian curses silently as he never loses pace with Gary and eventually starts lowering the bags in piece by piece. _I promise to come back and give you a proper burial._

*Meanwhile*

"Don't worry nothing of mine will be there when you get back." Hanging up the phone, Robin takes a moment to consider Ian's message. He wanted her to clear out the motel room. _Was his cover blown? Was Don's cover blown?_ She didn't think so...at least Ian hadn't sounded like he was in trouble.

"What did Ian want?"

"He told me to clear out the motel room; I think he wanted me to warn you that it's been compromised."

"Walker...he must have followed Ian after the game..."

"He did act like he was breaking up with me...maybe Gary saw us together this morning and put two and two together and got four..."

"What were you doing that he might think you were an item?" Don asks jealously as Robin only waves away his concerns with a dismissive flick of her wrist.

"Don he only gave us a couple hours, we need to go, _now_."

"We can use my car."

"You got a new car?"

"It's a rental," Don shrugs as he stands up and turns to offer Robin his hand.

"Of course it is," She replies sarcastically as she ignores his hand and pushes herself up off the bench.

"I thought we agreed to fight later and put the case first," Don replies quietly, his tone betraying the hurt he felt from her cutting remark even if his face didn't.

"We did, you're right," Robin sighs tiredly. "Lead the way."

Moving quickly out of the park, always looking around themselves to make sure that they weren't followed, Don leads Robin over to a black Chevy SS and opens the passenger side for her.

"Nice car," she sniffs gruffly as she climbs inside and waits for him to make his way over to the driver's side.

"Ian recommended it. I wanted a monster that looks like it's wearing a suit," Don laughs and Robin hates herself for the way her heart flutters at the sound. She had really thought she would never hear it again...it didn't matter how much she had strained her ears or her mind, she'd never been able to quite recreate it in her memory and the realisation had rocked her severely. "What's wrong?" Don asks concerned as he turns the ignition on and turns to reverse out of the parking space, catching a glimpse of her face in the process.

"He said that he was going out of town."

"Who?"

"Ian."

"Did he sound like we should be worried about that?"

"No..."

"Then it's probably a PR thing, Ian will make contact when he can," Don shrugs as he gets them onto the freeway headed for downtown LA.

"How can you be so calm about it all?"

"I've had six months of practice... _Rob_..."

" _Later_ ," Robin shakes her head sadly as she realises that whilst she had undergone some changes these past six months, so had he.

As they arrive at the motel, and Robin goes inside for the first time, she's amazed by what she sees. Don had moved the motel's furniture around, evidence of which could be seen on the faded wallpaper. "It's like you've created a little war room," She muses as she takes in the piles of boxes that she assumed were filled with files, and the massive mural on the wall. Photographs of several men and women covered the wall with lines of red twine linking them together. Looking closely, Robin realises that she recognises a large number of the people pinned to the wall. Worst of all she counted several of them as friends. If she hadn't seen the mural for herself, she never would have believed any of it. She still didn't entirely. "Are all of these people definitely PR?"

"Yes," Don replied candidly, not willing to sugar coat it for her. The unconfirmed ones are in that box there."

"And the other boxes?"

"All confirmed. They are all filled with people not deemed high enough to play any significant role in PR. The plan is to flip them against the higher ups later. That's more your department though."

"You're already thinking that far ahead?"

"Yes because we're close Robin. We only need the name of the boss and his top lieutenants and PR is finished." Don smiles faintly as he joins Robin at the base of the mural. Six months of hard labour and they still didn't know who the top brass were...but he was sure that the poker game would reveal a lot. He just needed to get a hold of Ian for a debrief first...

"You make it all sound so simple," Robin frowns disbelievingly as she turns to face Don.

"In theory it is," Don replies hesitantly as he turns to regard her as well. "Ian went to a poker game last night that we think might have had some of PR's top people."

"I know," She replies quietly, "He told me last night," She adds when he quirks his eyebrow at her in silent question.

"We were hoping that the game might mean that Ian was finally penetrating the top level of PR."

"It was...he told me last night that he met four of PR's top lieutenants."

"Did he give you their names?"

"Yes...Don...they shot James."

"Fuck..." Don hisses angrily as he rocks back on his heels, as his face drains of all colour. "I think it's my fault..."

"How? What did you do?" Robin asks confused as she reaches out to reassure him but drops her hand at the last second.

"He wanted out, but I forced him to go back in one last time. We needed the game to go without a hitch...we were so close to ending it all...I should have listened to his concerns...I just...I couldn't have anything look amiss at the game."

"It's not your fault Don...we all make choices...James was clearly walking a very thin line before you and Ian ever got involved."

"That's a very black and white way of looking at it," Don replies surprised at the hard edge in Robin's tone. That hadn't been there before... _did he do that?_

"Well a lot has happened in six months. Maybe I'm tired of living in so many shades of grey."

" _Rob_...you've got to know...I never thought that we'd be doing this for so long..."

"And by ' _we'_ you mean, you, Ian, Brandon, Marc, Charlie, Colby and Amita?" She replies angrily as she steps back and folds her arms tightly around her.

 _"That's not fair, I didn't involve them...they worked it out."_

"So as per usual you thought you could do it all alone," She snaps as the flood gates open and all of her resentment comes pouring out.

"That's not it at all!" Don replies affronted as he takes a step towards Robin but stops when he sees her eyes flash a warning to back off. "Didn't Ian tell you? We were trying to keep you all safe!"

"By keeping us in the dark? People were watching our family!"

"But they never did more than watch, _I made sure of that_."

"Exactly, once again you thought that you were the only one who could protect this family."

"I know that you are more than capable of protecting our family," Don whispers apologetically as he sits down on the bed, watching her warily from across the room. He had known that he couldn't expect her forgiveness for his actions, but he had always thought she'd understand them...but now he could see he'd hurt her too much for that. "It's why I didn't tell you to leave LA." He finishes lamely.

"That's easy enough to say now."

"Rob...I know I've hurt you," Don replies sadly, hanging his head in shame. "I know that I shouldn't expect your forgiveness, hell that I know that I don't deserve your forgiveness...but you told me that you didn't want anything to do with the file. You knew it was bad news but you gave it to me anyway."

"That's because I trusted you!" She shouts angrily as Don looks up surprised.

"And what? You don't now?"

"I...no...no Don. I'm sorry, but I don't."

"Then I don't think that there is anything left to say. Let's just get these boxes in the car and get out of here."

"I'll take down the wall."

"Take some pictures first."

" _Yes sir_ ," Robin mumbles sarcastically under her breath as she snaps a few pictures with her phone as Don starts taking some boxes out to the car.

"Don...this man..." She waves at him as he comes back into the room.

"Rob Sacco?"

"He was one of the ones at the poker game last night."

"Sacco? But he's just a forensic accountant for the FBI. We knew he had ties to PR but we figured he was just low enough that he would be one of the ones we would try to flip on the top brass. Why would someone like him be invited to the poker game?"

"Because he's not just a forensic accountant for the FBI!" She replies enthusiastically as she tears the picture off of the wall to look at it closer up.

"What do you mean? Do you know him?"

"Yes, many...many years ago when I was an associate in my father's law firm. Only Rob Sacco wasn't his name back then."

"Who was he?" Don asks curiously as he comes up behind her to look at the picture over her shoulder and for the first time that morning, Robin didn't shy away from his presence.

"Marland Bevin."

"I can see why he changed the name," Don replies jokily as she turns to face him excitedly.

"Yeah, that and the impending criminal charges he was facing. Marland Bevin was an infamous money launderer for the South Kings gang in New York City. Well...actually he was more than a money launderer; he was more like the gang's private financer, the ' _consigliere_ ' so to speak."

"What happened?"

"He skipped town before we could arrest him," Robin replies softly as her nose scrunches up with remembered frustration. "It was believed that he fled the country and was living off his millions in some non-extradition country somewhere."

"How did he manage that?" Don asks interestedly as he battled to ignore her closeness and the effect it was having on his mind and body.

"We think he had someone helping him from the inside."

"A cop?"

"Cop, FBI, ATF, we could never prove anything for definite. We had a few agencies working together on a joint task force.

"So a member of that team could well be connected to PR now?" Don thinks aloud.

"That's a bit of a stretch don't you think?"

"Is it? Corruption in both New York and LA and they both happen to have the same money man? No I don't think it's a leap at all. The FBI does thorough background checks one everyone. He couldn't be an agent unless someone made that happen. Someone from inside the FBI. I mean what if he never left the country at all?"

"So you think that the operation in New York was never shut down? But moved to LA?"

"Crazier things have happened," Don shrugs as he runs the logic through his head. "What if the South Kings Gang was being overseen by the...PR 1.0? When you shut it down PR 2.0 sprung up some years later in LA..."

"So whoever was on the task force back then would have to be here in LA now," Robin muses, joining him in his crazy reasoning. "It could narrow down the list a little."

"I know it's a stretch. But Charlie has taught me to never ignore coincidences. When we are done here we should get investigating Bevin or Sacco or whoever he is. People don't just disappear."

 _"We?"_ Robin asks surprised as she looks up at Don, her mouth so close to his. They had somehow drifted together in all the excitement. He could feel the warmth of her body, even though they were standing slightly apart.

"You were right. I'm not the only one who can protect this family...and I could really do with your help...Robin... _I need you_."

"In that case I think we need to go on a little road trip," Robin smiles as she steps away from him, taking the warmth with her as she starts dismantling the wall once more.

"Where?" He asks gruffly as he tries to concentrate on what she's saying.

"You think I store copious amounts of records, you haven't seen my father's library."

"New York? That's going to be a long drive..."

"Well it sounds to me like New York holds more answers right now than LA...so it's up to you," Robin replies hesitantly. It was hard for Don to tell whether it was at the prospect of being stuck in a car with him for hours on end or just the long journey that had her worried.

"Ok, well we'll finish up here and then hit the road. Do you think that your mother will mind looking after the kids whilst we are gone?"

"She moved in with me during this whole mess, she won't mind keeping an eye on the kids."

"Then lets hurry, you can call her from the road."

Making quick work of clearing out the room and righting the furniture, Don and Robin were on the road headed for New York before noon. It wasn't at all what Robin had expected to be doing with her morning, but then she was learning quickly how to roll with the punches.

 _God she just hoped that they were right!_


	15. Chapter 15

**15**

 _*"Change is inevitable, and those who adapt most quickly are the most likely to survive." – Larry Fleinhardt_

 _Season 3, Episode 9: Waste Not*_

*Two Days Later*

Yawning loudly as he fixes his tie in the bathroom mirror, Colby valiantly attempts to listen to what Charlie is saying, but let's just say he was grateful that no one would be testing him after. "I see," He nods vacantly as he pulls the tie up tightly around his thick neck and turns to face the young mathematician; needless to say, he did not see. In fact he had no Idea what so ever, Charlie didn't seem to notice however, and continues his little rant.

"I mean, what am I supposed to do with 'lay low'? One minute we are supposed to be meeting Ian to find out who the top bosses of PR are, and the next he and Don have left town! And neither has sent word since!" Charlie grumbles frustrated as Colby nods sympathetically. He didn't particularly care for being left in the dark either, but then his text had been a little beefier with the details. He couldn't tell Charlie this though; Don probably wasn't ready to face the 'Robin knows I'm alive' conversation.

"I'm sure they have their reasons," Colby shrugs unconcerned as he turns back to face the mirror. In truth Colby was sympathetic to Don's plight. Driving the forty plus hours to New York, he had googled it, with a pissed off wife and no escape route sounded like Colby's version of hell and he had an actual job to juggle. Least Don didn't need to clock in a full day's work and all of his clandestine activities. Not that Colby would trade places with Don for a second. It was just hard to keep up his usual activities and secretly spy on everyone he worked with at the same time. Personally he was quite happy to be taking a breather from it all.

"You haven't received word from Don since either right?" Charlie asks suspiciously as Colby finishes preening in the mirror, his lack of contribution to the conversation finally catching up with him as the young professor turns his scrutinising gaze upon Colby's less than innocent reflection.

"If I had, I would have told you," Colby replies steadily, his gaze never leaving Charlie's as he chooses his next words carefully. "Look Charlie, right now believe it or not I have more on my plate than PR. The Director's visit is imminent and no one knows why he's coming. All I know is I'm behind on filing my reports. I don't know how your brother made being SAIC look so easy."

"He struggled with it a lot," Charlie sympathises quietly as the pair leave the bathroom and head for Don's...Colby's office. "He used to take work home with him, much to Robin's chagrin. It took him away from the kids and Don resented that. Being apart from them these past six months must be killing him..."

"We'll get there Charlie. He'll be back before you know it."

"I think the Director's here..." Charlie gestures at the large crowd of agents swarming around the nineteenth floor's elevator.

"Fuck," Colby nods sourly as he turns away from his office and throws himself into the growing crowd of agents ready to greet the Director. He should have been waiting at the elevator for the Director to arrive, oh well too late now!

Shuffling forwards with the rest, it didn't take long for the Director to spot Colby in the mass of agents and gestures him forwards. All Colby can do is watch and wait as the surrounding agent's part for him like the red sea. "Sir," he greets the Director warily as he shakes the Directors hand.

"Agent Granger." The Director smiles as he releases Colby's hand before turning back to face the waiting crowd. "Forgive the interruption everyone. I know you are all very busy so I will make this quick. Whilst there will be a formal announcement later, I would like to make an informal one here for you today. Finding someone capable to step up and feel the void agent Callaghan left when he was tragically taken from us has not been easy. Whilst it pains me to replace Nick, a replacement has been found." Colby was as surprised as everyone to hear as much, but the seat had remained vacant for six months, Colby loathed to admit it, but it was time. "That is why," The Director continues as he motions for the man who had been hovering behind him to step forward. "I would like to introduce you all to the new Assistant Director Andrew Castle."

As cheers erupted from the surrounding agents, Colby finds himself clapping enthusiastically along with them. Andrew Castle was about as far removed from Nick as you could possibly get. Instead of the sandy haired, blue eyed AD who'd had a penchant for wearing beige suits; Andrew castle has salt and pepper hair, a lightly muscled frame and an aurora of authority. He wore a navy blue suit with light blue tie, held together with a tiny American flag tiepin and if Colby was a betting man he would have guessed that the new AD was ex-military.

"Hello," Andrew smiles enthusiastically as he shakes the hands of the nearest agents before motioning for quiet. "Losing Nick was the single most tragic thing to happen to this agency," He nods sadly as the room agrees quite vocally with their new AD. "Almost as tragic as the fact that the case remains unsolved. My only hope is that I can fill the very large shoes Nick left behind him. Thank you."

"Do you trust him?" Charlie asks sceptically next to Colby who is surprised by Charlie's concerns.

"I don't know him, but why wouldn't I?"

"SAIC Granger," Andrew Castle calls out as he approaches. Smiling welcomingly Colby firmly shakes the new AD's hand. "I'm holding a little get to know you BBQ for the higher management this afternoon on my yacht and your coming that's an order!" Andrew winks as Colby chuckles in reply.

"Of course sir."

"Ah professor Eppes, I've heard a lot about you," The new AD smiles as he notices Charlie for the first time.

"I'm surprised you have," Charlie frowns, earning him a dig in the ribs from Colby and a grunt to be nice.

"Nonsense," Andrew laughs away the tension as he acts oblivious to Colby's rough treatment. "You and your brother have done many good things for this department...and might I add that I'm very sorry for your loss. Don was a valued agent."

"Thank you," Charlie replies distrustfully as he forces a small smile on to his face. "I wasn't aware that you knew each other."

"Heard of each other is all. I knew his wife many years ago, how is Robin?"

"She's doing as well as can be expected."

"I'm glad to hear it...tell you what, you should come along this afternoon as well if you have the time," Andrew adds enthusiastically as he looks to Colby as if to say make it happen.

"Well..."

"Done, you're coming, I won't take no for an answer," Andrew cuts in before Charlie can think up a good enough excuse not to.

"Yes sir."

"Aces. Oh and boys, bring your partners. I want us all to get to know each other much better...and now If you'll forgive me gentlemen, I should say hello to a few more people before we have to get this little welcome tour moving again."

"Welcome tour?" Charlie asks confused as the Director walks over and gives Andrew a clap to the back.

"Yes professor," He grins broadly, "AD Castle here is from the New York office originally. He's been working back and forth between the two states for the last ten years but I've finally convinced him to stay with us permanently.

"Director Benedict here made me an offer I couldn't refuse," Andrew chuckles and they all join in on the laughter, though Charlie's was more forced than the others. Not that he would voice his concerns until the pair had left.

"Keep up the good work gentlemen," The Director orders happily before gesturing to Andrew to move on and just like that all the tension and worry over the Director's visit was gone as the pair leave.

"Are you really buying that?" Charlie asks disbelievingly once they are back in Colby's office and away from the crowd.

"I like him," Colby replies without hesitation as he motions to Charlie to remember that the office was bugged.

"I guess," Charlie replies reluctantly as he pretends to drop the subject. "I just miss Nick is all…"

"We all do Charlie," Colby replies sadly. "But it's time the FBI righted itself again. We've mourned Nick for six months. It's time."

"You're right. I guess I will see you later..."

"Yeah, did you want a lift?"

"Thanks."

"It's no problem...and Charlie..."

"Yes?"

"It will all work itself out, you'll see."

"I hope you're right." Charlie sighs tiredly as he makes his way home to see if Amita is up for going to the BBQ later. She wasn't talking to him at the moment so the conversation would be an interesting one…

*Meanwhile in New York*

 _"The answer has to be here somewhere!" Don taps furiously at the burgundy file on the desk in front of him as Nick leans against the small interrogation room's only window, watching him with a hooded gaze._

 _"Does it?" Nick groans as Don flips back to the start and begins reading once more. "You have read that file a hundred times already. What makes you think you will find the answer this time?"_

 _"You wouldn't have given me the file if it didn't hold the answer," Don reasons as he scans each page in the file once more. "Which means the answer to who's guilty, has to lie within these pages."_

 _"Maybe...or maybe I expected you to actually use your brain and think logically through the case," Nick speculates as he moves away from the window to join Don at the table. "Forget the file, tell me who you think has the most to gain from my death."_

 _"But I thought I was supposed to be searching for PR's boss...is he not in the file?" Don looks up confused as he takes in Nick's slightly disappointed frown._

 _"The two are connected dummy," Nick chastises gently as he sits down opposite and takes the file from Don._

 _"I don't understand," Don crosses his arms defensively. "Why did you give me the file if not to take out PR?"_

 _"I didn't ask you why I gave you the file; I asked you who has the most to gain from taking me out?"_

 _"The head of PR…the one they refer to as management."_

 _"And what does management gain from removing me from the picture?" Nick asks again, a little bit sterner this time._

 _"They put an end to your investigation. They got the file."_

 _"Except they didn't."_

 _"Didn't what?"_

 _"They didn't get the file, its right in front of you," Nick chastises again as he waves the file at Don as if to make a point. He was hinting at something, Don just didn't know what. "Oh come on Don, must I spell it out?" Nick grumbles as he rakes his hand through his thick sandy-blonde hair despairingly._

 _"They never got the file..." Don replies quietly, his mind working double time as he works to connect the dots all the way back to the start. "We gave them the file...after they had already killed you, even though they didn't know where you had hidden it..."_

 _"One could argue that they didn't know about it until you gave it to them," Nick adds suggestively, making Don's mind reel._

 _"If they didn't know about the file...then why did they kill you?" He whispers warily._

 _"You know why Don."_

 _"I don't, I don't know why!" Don cries in anguish as Nick passes the file back._

 _"The answer isn't in there Don. It never was. This was just a starter kit so to speak. The answer lies in why they murdered me. What did they have to gain Don?"_

 _"Your silence. You knew too much, they had to shut you up," Don guesses as he ignores the file and studies Nick's face instead._

 _"If they wanted my silence then-"_

 _"-Then they had to have known that you knew about them-"_

 _"-Which means that I-"_

 _"-Tried approaching them! You tried to go undercover!" Don shakes his head angrily. "You fool. No one would believe that you could be bought!"_

 _"You say that because we are like brothers," Nick smiles sardonically. "Everyone always said that I was more politician than agent and we all know that politicians like big fat pay-outs. No Don for everyone else the thought that I could be bought was not such a stretch of the imagination. Think about it Don...a man in my position, think of what I could have done for PR, how I could have advanced their campaign!"_

 _"If it wasn't such a stretch of the imagination, why did they have you killed then?" Don replies uncomprehendingly._

 _"That was my question to you Don. What do they gain by my death?"_

 _"Your job," Don answers quietly, sickened by the sudden realisation. He felt strange, like a lock that'd had all its tumblers twisted into place. He saw it now, he knew the answer. Nick was right it was obvious. "But they haven't replaced you yet..." He adds weakly, rebelliously in fact as he stumbles to fight what deep down he knew was true._

 _"Haven't they?" Nick asks suggestively, but when Don looks up he's amazed to see that he is alone in the small room._

 _"Nick?" He shouts worriedly. "Nick!"_

"Don! Wake up, its ok!" Robin calls out to him as she lays her hand upon his shoulder making him jerk awake with a start.

"Rob?" He asks confused as the small interrogation room melts away and he is once more in Robin's dad's study.

"It's ok," She whispers soothingly as he slowly sits up. "You were dreaming."

"I saw Nick...he made me see..."

"See what?"

"...Nothing...I need to think about a few things...did you have any luck with your dad's old files?" Don shrugs as he tries to focus his mind on the present and not his disturbing dream.

"Daddy and I have made a list of people who worked on the case and have ties to LA, but it's still a pretty long list," She replies hesitantly as she drops her hand from his shoulder and steps away. He could see she longed to ask more about the dream but on the long, long car journey to the Hamptons they had agreed to only speak about the case.

It was too hard for her to speak about anything else and Don hated seeing her anger whenever he said something careless...or wrong, which let's face it was most of the time at the moment. He knew he was being a pussy about the whole thing but it was easier for her to pretend that there wasn't a gigantic mess between them and Don felt like he had lost the right to object after the hell he'd put her through.

"Well it's a start," Don smiles encouragingly as he stands up and takes a step away from Robin. "I think we should take a break, regroup after lunch."

"Ok...I'll get Brenda to make us some sandwiches," Robin offers hesitantly, referring to her father's maid.

"Sounds great," Don replies quickly with fake enthusiasm as he walks over to the two large French doors that open out onto the veranda. "I just want a little fresh air first. I'll come find you when I'm ready to eat," He adds with fake nonchalance and quickly makes his exit before she can disagree.

After all, how could Don explain, in a way that didn't make him sound completely bonkers, that Nick had actually given him a lot to think about? Stuff that Don was sure could blow the whole case wide open.

Why did they kill you? Don asks Nick silently, though this time Nick was not there to reply. Was it really for your job?

Unsure what to believe anymore, Don was sure of one thing. To catch PR he first had to solve his best friend's murder. Nick was the linchpin or the catalyst so to speak. He didn't think that the head of PR's management killed Nick himself, but maybe finding the person hired to do so would finally shed some light on their operation and ultimately be their downfall.

*Later That Afternoon*

"So the idea is to score twenty one, or as close to without going over," Colby explains gruffly to Dylan as he cuts the deck of cards before shuffling them back together. "As the dealer, you will start by dealing a card to each player at the table. They look at it, place a bet and then you deal everyone a second card."

"I just thought it would be nice to go together!" Charlie shouts angrily at Amita from the platform above. "If you don't want to go, DON'T!"

"What happens next?" Dylan asks curiously, ignoring his parent's row as he picks up the cards in front of him.

"Well then you go to each player and you ask them 'twist or stick?'. Generally if the player is sticking he will place his chips on top of his cards, but it's worth asking in case they are new to the game."

"Fine, maybe I won't go!" Amita roars back as they hear the door to the upstairs bathroom slam angrily followed by Charlie cursing about women and making your frickin' mind up.

"So I have sixteen, would you twist or stick?" Dylan asks curiously as he places his cards on the table for Colby to see.

"You actually have sixteen or six, the Ace counts as one _or_ eleven. So I would buy one."

"You can do that?"

"So long as it is smaller or equal to your original bet."

"Ok, I'll buy one," Dylan replies as he picks up two matchsticks and places them next to his original two.

"As the dealer when someone 'buys one' you wouldn't show anyone else, so you place the card face down for the player but as this is a tutorial I'll flip it over," Colby smiles as he flips over another ace. "Great, so same rule applies, you have seven or seventeen."

"Buy another?"

"Amita, honey, just open the door please," Charlie implores at the bathroom door but any reply is too muffled for Colby to hear.

"Doesn't their fighting bother you?" Colby asks surprised as he hands Dylan another card.

"Not really," Dylan shrugs as Charlie begins banging on the bathroom door. "Trust me, silence would be worse." Dylan adds as he places the card, a two, down next to the others.

"But it looked like they might reconcile for a moment there."

"Before mom left…they wouldn't even speak to each other. It was quite freaky. Believe it or not their fighting actually means they care."

"Aren't you worried about your mom leaving again though?" Colby asks concerned, he knew it wasn't his fault entirely but he did feel a little bit responsible for Charlie and Amita's arguing. After all it was him who put his foot in it in the first place by accidently revealing that Don was alive…

"Naw, its ok." Dylan replies unconcerned and oblivious to Colby's discomfort. "We had a good chat about it this morning and mom is coming home regardless of whether or not they bury the hatchet."

"It's them burying the hatchet that I'm worried about," Colby mumbles quietly as Charlie gives up trying to get Amita out of the bathroom and joins Colby and Dylan downstairs.

"How's it going?" Charlie asks as he joins the pair at the small kitchen's bar where Colby was halfway through teaching Dylan the rules of Blackjack.

"He's a fast learner," Colby smiles warmly at his God Son, who grabs a couple more matchsticks and takes the card that Colby offers him.

"Col will have to come back tomorrow to finish teaching me," Dylan states matter of fact as he points to the cards. "That's nine or nineteen right? So should I stick?"

"No you twist because you can't go bust and that's a five card trick. Dealer can only beat it with blackjack. You can't buy the last card though because you can't be bust," Charlie takes over explaining as Colby's phone starts ringing.

"Agent Granger," Colby answers as he flips over the dealers two cards to reveal blackjack. _What are the odds?_ He chuckles with the others, but his laughter is cut short when he hears Don's voice on the other end of the phone.

"Who is it?" Charlie asks suspiciously as he watches Colby's smile fade and his face cloud with concern.

"Sam," Colby lies as he gets up from the breakfast bar and heads out of the room leaving Charlie frowning uncertainly. "I'm alone now," He tells Don once he's outside. "What do you need?"

"I need to know the name of Nick's replacement."

"Andrew Castle."

"So they have replaced him!" Don replies shocked as Colby frowns concerned.

"Well the appointment hasn't been officially announced, but the Director came around and introduced him this morning. If you hadn't heard…and wasn't sure…how did you know Nick had been replaced?" Colby asks confused.

"Nick told me…look Colby…it's going to sound nuts but I think he's it."

"It what?"

"Management."

"Did Nick tell you that too?" Colby asks worriedly as he looks behind him to make sure Charlie was still inside the garage.

"Look I can't explain it right now," Don sighs tiredly down the line before continuing. "For now, until I get back from New York, I need you to keep an eye on him."

That won't be too hard," Colby laughs without humour. "I'm headed to his private yacht."

"Come again?"

"He invited us all over for a BBQ, your brother and Amita too."

"Well don't move too fast ok. Just watch him. He's dangerous Col."

"Damn," Colby laughs again as he shakes his head sadly, "Charlie will be pleased to be proved right."

"What do you mean?"

"He didn't like Andrew from the start," Colby explains dryly as he watches Charlie teach his son how to be a dealer for his schools casino night fundraiser.

"You can't tell him Col," Don snaps harsher than intended. "Charlie isn't subtle and he's a terrible liar. He'd likely only get himself killed!"

"I'd say that's charming coming from his brother but I've played poker with Charlie. You're right about him not being subtle." Colby adds as he watches Amita come down the stairs through the open doorway.

"There is one other thing," Don adds quietly, almost as an afterthought.

"Name it."

"Could you please get Amita to look into a guy named Rob Sacco? I want to know when he came onto the scene and all financials that he's tied to, professionally and personally. Don't mention Andrew but ask her to see if there is a connection there."

"I can look for a connection but Amita is the best at finding out stuff like that," Colby replies quietly as Amita and Charlie move into the converted living room, closer to the open doorway.

"Do you think she would help us without involving Charlie?"

"Oh yeah," Colby replies dryly as Charlie and Amita's arguing could be heard clearly through the open doorway. "There will be no problem there…when are you and Robin coming home?"

"We are getting a lift home from Robin's father. We should be home soon." Don answers quietly. Colby wondered if Robin knew about this little phone conversation and shook his head. Knowing Don it was unlikely. _He'll never learn,_ Colby chastises internally.

"Another long car journey! This time with your father-in-law _and_ pissed off wife. I don't envy you at all!"

"Oh, no," Don laughs surprised, "He's flying us home. He owns his own private helicopter."

"Really?"

"Yeah, so we will see you tonight if you can make it. We can swap information."

"No problem," Colby nods as he thinks about how grateful he will be to get away from the arguing duo. "Don't suppose you've heard anything from Ian yet? We're getting pretty worried."

"Last I heard he was in Santa Barbara being shown around PR's drug operation," Don explains unconcerned.

"They have their own operation?" Colby replies surprised.

"Well it's actually the Santo Realeza cartel running the drugs but its PR's racket. PR provides the drugs and they make sure that the cartel is protected from the law. Ian said that management put him in charge of the farms but it sounds like they want him to run distribution as well."

"Sounds pretty dangerous to me," Colby frowns concerned as he checks the time on his watch, they needed to get going if they wanted to be only fashionably late and not to be considered rude.

"Ian says he's got a handle on it and I trust him. Besides it's all part of his cover with PR, it's not like he was given a choice," Don reminds Colby sternly.

"Ok well I'll talk to you later." Colby drops the subject, hangs up the phone and heads back into the garage where Amita and Charlie are still arguing. "Look neither of you will be going in a minute!" Colby snaps angrily, the pair had finally gotten on his last nerve. His fear for Ian, Don and the afternoon ahead probably causing him to lose his cool quicker than if he had been carefree.

"But she said…" Charlie starts to answer back but stops when he sees Colby's black expression.

"I don't care," Colby shouts frustrated. "I don't care who said or did what. We are going to a party. A pretty important networking opportunity for me. You only get one chance to make a decent impression and we are already pushing the boundaries of fashionably late. So stop fighting and let's get going!"

"Colby's right, can we please go and try not to kill each other for a few hours?"

"Please?" Colby and Charlie ask together.

"I guess if I'm to start back at the FBI I ought to meet the new AD," Amita replies relenting as she grabs her purse and heads over to her son.

"Come back to the FBI?" Charlie and Colby bother ask together again, like twins.

"Yes!" Amita smiles at them in reply, though there is no warmth in it, before kissing her son goodbye. "Don't look at me like that!" She reprimands the pair as she sees the sceptical look that passes between the two. "I only left because of your squabble with Don. Now that's resolved I see no reason why I shouldn't comeback!"

"Well we'll be lucky to have you back," Colby replies quickly, the first of the two to recover. "In fact there is a project that I'm working on that could do with a fresh pair of eyes. I would love to have you look over it and give me your perspective," Colby smiles encouragingly. "Perhaps we could discuss it further tomorrow?"

"Of course!" Amita smiles brightly at Colby. "Well I'm ready, you guys coming or what?" She adds as she slips the purse over her shoulder and walks out the garage.

"Colby, I don't want Amita mixed up in anything PR related!" Charlie hisses angrily at Colby, careful to make sure that no one but Colby can hear him, as the pair follow after.

"Relax Chuck, it's purely FBI work. Nothing dangerous." Colby replies reassuringly as Charlie frowns suspiciously.

"I'll hold you to that promise," Charlie warns Colby before stalking off after Amita.

Uncrossing the fingers he was holding behind his back, Colby pulls his car keys from his jeans pocket and unlocks the car, his conscience weighing heavily. He was already lying to Sam, why not Charlie too? _Think about it later,_ he tells himself quietly as they all climb inside. _You need to focus now! We have a manager to snare._

*Meanwhile in Santa Barbara*

As the stereo blares and the people move rhythmically along to the music, Ian watches interestedly as cop and cartel mix and mingle in a sweaty tangle of bodies; something that only a few short months ago seemed as impossible and improbable as a lion dancing with a zebra.

"Beautiful, no?" Carols grins innocuously as he empties the small plastic bag of product on the glass coffee table and expertly begins cutting the crack into two lines with a small mirror. "Join me amigo?" He asks Ian as he picks up a dollar bill, rolls it into a small tube and begins to skilfully snort the right hand line.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you not to taste your own product?" Ian asks sceptically, making the bangers closest to them snort with laughter.

"I don' trust anyone who don' take a hit wiv me," Carlos throws a dark look at his men as he holds out the bill for Ian. "You wanna be workin' closely wiv me gringo, you gonna hav to take a hit wiv me."

"In that case," Ian smiles his thin cat like smile as he leans forwards and snorts the left hand line in one smooth motion. "Aquí es confiar."

"To trust!" Carlos laughs as he raises his glass and takes a shot of tequila in response to Ian's toast of _'Here's to trust!'_ making those around them laugh and take a shot as well. "Tomorrow we do business," Carlos states as a woman comes up behind him and drapes herself over his shoulder, biting his ear seductively. "Tonight we party!"

"Sounds great," Ian smiles as he stands up, grabs the bottle of tequila and takes a long pull, burning the back of his throat. "But there is unfortunately some business we must take care of tonight."

"Qué?"

Motioning for the cops that he had met two days before through Gary's introduction, Ian turns on Carlos, his smile no longer friendly. "You've been skimming from the business Carlos; did you think that I wouldn't notice?"

Laughing unconcerned, Carlos reaches for his gun but Ian is quicker. Pointing his gun at the cartel boss, Ian watches as Carlos's friendly demeanour disappears and is replaced with an angry snarl. "You accuse me?" He hisses as he watches the other cops in the room point their weapons at the temples of the cartel boss's bodyguards. "In my own casa?" He spits outraged as he realises Ian's ruse. This was all planned. Ian had played him.

"What did you think Carlos? That I was just some dumb gringo? That I wouldn't see the discrepancies in the books? Or did you think you could buy my compliance with the drugs, money and women?" He points the gun at Carlos's woman; Ian had already forgotten her name. "Management sent me because there is a new order. _My order_. You either are with PR or you are dead, not even Assistant Directors of the FBI are above our reach. A lowly cartel boss like you is nothing to PR. Your ass is ours. Your little operation would still be some back-alley dream without us!"

"Amigo, I don' know what you mean? We move the drugs an' make sure you get your cut," Carlos spreads his hands innocently.

"You stole from management. You are a fool Carlos."

"Management knows? _What are you gonna do?_ "

"I have my orders," Ian replies quietly as he motions for two of the cops that were busy keeping the party guests back to bring in a wooden chair and cuff Carlos to it. "Management wanted me to take you on a tour of our graveyard." Ian explains as he slips his gun into the back of his worn jeans. "But I convinced him to spare you."

"Gracias!" Carlos replies so relieved that he doesn't see the first hit coming and was too busy reeling from the first to see the second or the third.

"I convinced him to let me make an example of you instead," Ian smiles evilly as he kneels down in front or Carlos and uses Carlos's knees to keep his balance. "You got complacent Carlos. You got sloppy. You thought yourself untouchable. So untouchable that you didn't do your research."

"I don' understand," Carlos groans as he looks into Ian's earnest gaze with his one good eye, his right too swollen to open.

"My name is Ian Edgerton but your people know me as the assassin San La Muerte."

"San La Muerte is a myth and the assassin that stole his name is just as fictional," Carlos laughs, but his men look less certain.

"Tell me," Ian replies calmly as Carlos stops laughing and looks at Ian with his good eye. "What is the only detail known about the assassin San La Muerte?"

"He has a scar over his heart where he was shot but lived," One of Carlos's men replies for Carlos as Ian stands up and pulls back his shirt for all to see.

"No!" Carlos shouts but Ian hits him again, shutting up everyone in the room.

"You have all been living under Carlos's misguided illusion that you are untouchable even to PR." Ian tells the crowd as he punches Carlos again and again until Carlos's face resembles a messy pulp more than a human face. "This is PR's operation. _It is_ _my_ _operation_ ," Ian states angrily as Carlos slumps forward unconscious in the chair.

"What are your orders Jefe?" Carlos's second in command asks quietly as Ian turns from Carlos to the horrified crowd, a wild anger still burning in his hooded gaze.

"It's a party isn't it?"

"Boss?" One of the cops asks as Ian drops his hands by his sides and ignores the stinging from the cuts over his knuckles.

"As Carlos would say, let's party like there's no _mañana!" Ian shouts_ and is surprised by the cheer that erupts from the crowd as the stereo is turned back on. Ian had not realised until the beat was assaulting his body once more that it had been shut off when he had started confronting Carlos and just as quickly as the music is turned back on, the crowd disperses once more to drink and dance. "Leave him there." Ian tells the two who had cuffed Carlos to the chair, before slipping out the back onto the pier that led from the house to the beach.


	16. Chapter 16

**16** **  
**

 _*"You can be a real bastard sometimes." – Robin Brooks_

 _Season 4, Episode 14: Checkmate*_

Watching as the sun sets, Colby felt contented for the first time in months. It had been a while since he had felt relaxed enough that he could just sit, shut his eyes and imagine life was simple again. Nothing existed past his chilli-cheese dog and beer and Colby could get used to that.

"There's nothing quite like being at sea," Andrew sighs blissful; dangling his legs over the side as he sits down next to Colby.

"We're still in the harbour," Colby jokes as Andrew swats at his arm in playful reply.

"Ok, there's nothing like being on a boat in the quiet of a harbour..."

"You call this quiet?" Colby teases as he gestures at the roaring party going on behind them.

"You're a hard man to please Mr Granger," Andrew concedes as he throws his hands up in despair. "And I was so hoping we could be friends."

"I'm sorry," Colby replies sombre as he puts his cheese-dog to one side and nurses his beer instead. "There's just this one case..."

"Ah," Andrew nods, caught up in past memory. "The one that got away."

"Exactly! I know he's guilty, there's just no evidence and he's rubbing our faces in it. I hate smart criminals." Colby sighs before taking a long pull of his beer.

"There are no smart criminals." Andrew laments as he places a sympathetic hand on Colby's shoulder. "Only lucky ones."

"Charlie would state that everything is numbers and that there is no such thing as luck." Colby laughs rueful. His breath hitching as he realises how close Andrew is sat and that his hand is still resting on Colby's shoulder.

"And he's right of course!" Andrew shouts in agreement as his eyes search Colby's; for what Colby didn't know. "...Perhaps there is something I could do to help?"

"It's unlikely. There are no leads, no evidence..." Colby whispers as Andrew leans in closer.

"Trust me; with my help you could achieve anything. I've seen your work Colby, how you've handled the office since Don's tragic demise. I'm impressed...and I don't impress easy Mr Granger."

"Thank you sir," Colby smiles uneasy, squirming a little in his seat. He didn't know why but he'd always had trouble accepting praise. It was even harder when it was coming from a direct superior who seemed to be giving him the once over at the same time.

"Please, call me Drew." Drew drawls as he raises his beer bottle in toast, "To fast friends!" He states and Colby echoes as they clink bottles and down the last of their beers. "Now about your smart criminal. There's a little job I'd like you to do for me and whilst you take care of that, I'll take care of him for you? Sound fair?"

"What kind of job?"

"Tell you what, this is no place to discuss business; come by my office tomorrow and I'll fill you in?" Standing up, Drew holds his hand out to help Colby up too. "Until then, how about we dance and get shit faced? It's my party after all!"

"Is that a command sir?" Colby teases as he takes the new AD's hand and stands up, his chilli-cheese dog long forgotten as his stomach folds itself in painful knots. Drew is the mark, Colby reminds himself. Needing to put himself in check before he falls too close to liking the potential head of PR too much.

Besides he had more important stuff to worry about. If Colby was reading Drew right, the AD more than liked him back. _Something to exploit later?_ He wonders as he watches the other man's face crease into a wide smile.

"Does it need to be?" Drew teases as he arches a suggestive eyebrow.

"No," Colby grins as he takes Drew's hand in his and leads him over to the dance floor. Laughing, they enter the sweaty throng of dancers, moving their bodies in time with each other and the music.

*Later that night*

Watching as the sun reluctantly slips away beneath the horizon, Ian felt a level of clarity and control that he hadn't felt in months. True his hand was stinging like a son of a bitch and his stomach was rolling, but he felt alive...no...he felt electric! Which was so much better.

"How's the hand?" A lightly accented, Hispanic voice asks him from behind.

"Never better," Ian only half lies. Ok sure, it was stinging so much that he wasn't sure if he could move his fingers or not...but there was also a sense of primal satisfaction to be had as well. Which counted for something right?

"I guess you won't need these then?" Turning around, Ian smiles at the ice cold beer and bag of frozen peas being held out to him.

"Well I wouldn't say no," Ian laughs his appreciation as he gestures at his heroine to join him on the edge of the solid pier. "I suppose you think I was too hard on Carlos back there," Ian adds thoughtfully as he takes in the full radiating effect of his saviour's beauty...

Her skin was flawless. That was what he noticed first. There wasn't a single mar or imperfection on her naturally sun tanned skin. The second was the waterfall of jet black hair that was messily fighting the hair clip on the back of her head for freedom. It had Ian mesmerised. All he could think about was how wonderful it would be to pull that hair clip out and watch as her soft hair tumbled and cascaded its way over her smooth shoulders, caressing her bare skin and breasts. Her two amply sized breasts...

"On the contrary, I think you weren't hard enough," She smiles slyly, laughing at Ian's mixture of confusion and awe. "I might even go so far as to say you were too kind."

"Too kind!" Ian hoots with mock indignation. "My hand says otherwise!"

"I knew it was hurting you!" She laughs as she takes his mangled hand in hers which were surprisingly coarse, she'd known hard graft. He liked that about her. "This should help," She whispers as she gently places the peas on top of his hand, invoking an involuntary grunt of pain.

"I'm Ian," He introduces himself as he softly places his good hand on top of the bag of peas, trapping her hand beneath his.

"I know," she admits, although she looks in two minds about doing so.

"I'm sorry?" Ian asks thrown, he had been mesmerised up until that moment. Now he looked at her with cold hard suspicion, trapping her hand more forcefully under his.

"I said 'I know'," she replies unperturbed. If the cold was too much she wasn't letting on and that only served to make her more attractive in his eyes. "Just as you know who I am," She adds in an accusatory tone when Ian only stares blankly back at her. "Don't play coy Mr Edgerton," She continues miffed, but Ian wasn't playing around anymore and apparently neither was she if the downward turn of her cupid bow lips and glare was any indication.

She was fiery, he admitted grudgingly in the moment, which only served to add to the mystery and sex appeal of the stranger in front of him. _Yes_ , Ian thought raising an eyebrow in silent appraisal. He liked his women fiery.

"'Really pretty that one…think I might take my time, I like it when they kick'. Ring any bells? I bet you still have my picture in your wallet right...here," She tells him sternly as she places her free hand on the bulge in his pocket where his wallet was, inches away from the other bulge in his pants.

"Elaina," He states matter of fact, it all clicking into place now. "Esteban's sister. I'm touched that he warned you about me. Meant he took me as seriously as I wanted him to."

"He did, in fact put the fear of God into him because he ordered me to go back home to Florida."

"Which makes me wonder why you're here giving me a beer and a bag of peas?" Ian replies confounded. "Do you have a death wish?"

"Maybe I just wanted to meet the monster and judge for myself."

"And what is your assessment Miss Esteban? Will you be taking Julio's advice and hopping on the next flight to Florida?" Strangely Ian felt a little sad at the prospect. His breath was curiously baited in anticipation for her reply although why it was so important to him he had yet to fathom.

"That depends...do you plan on hurting me?" Elaina asks innocently, looking up at him under thickly made up eyes. Somewhere in the recesses of his memory Ian recalled that that the style was called 'Smokey'. A random nugget of information which was just evidence of how his brain seemed to have stopped functioning in her presence. He was sure it was her presence at least; it could have been the delirium setting in from the unattended injury to his hand. He really had hit Carlos hard!

Don wouldn't be pleased but there was no pretending in this world and Ian really did feel like he had entered another world. At least he'd kept Carlos alive. Management had wanted the old cartel boss dead, but Ian had convinced them to let him handle it his own way. All it had cost Carlos was a little facial reconstruction. That was Ian's excuse anyway, although deep down Ian didn't really see it as an excuse but a fact. Right now it was Carlos or him and Ian had chosen to save his own skin.

 _Just call me Picasso,_ Ian laughed sardonically to himself.

"What I think," Elaina replies softly as she leans in a little closer, drawing Ian's attention back on her, reminding him that he had asked for her assessment only seconds before. "Is that there is a war raging inside of you."

"A war?" Ian replies dubiously, hiding the fact that it felt like she had dropped a bucket of ice cold water down his spine. He didn't like mind games and that's exactly how this conversation was starting to feel. He usually did the manipulating...and he definitely didn't like feeling like the manipulated party.

"Yes, between the real you and the cop you."

"I think we both know that the cop me doesn't rule here," Ian laughs, causing her to pout. "I'm sorry," He holds his hands up, releasing hers and dropping the bag of peas into his lap.

"You're right," She nods, forgetting her anger. Almost as quickly as she had blown hot, she had blown cool again and Ian marvelled at her control. "You're also right about my motives. I didn't come to look at the monster. I came to make a deal with the devil."

"I'm the devil am I?" He asks slyly, smiling his cat like grin as he raises an eyebrow suggestively. Was it wrong he liked the devil analogy? _Maybe the delirium was finally settling in..._

"Ok, maybe not the devil," She laughs, a gentle ringing sound like a soft summer breeze twinkling a wind chime. _Yes, delirium was definitely setting in_.

"But you do want something."

"Don't we all?" She asks cryptically, but drops the act a second later. "But we can speak about that tomorrow."

 _"Oh we can,_ _can we?"_

"Yes. We can," Elaina replies without hesitation, leaving no room for negotiation.

"Then we will," Ian agrees, although he was nervous about just what he was agreeing to.

"Too kind eh?" He chuckles softly after a reasonable amount of time has passed without comment.

"Yes, but then I didn't see the genius of your plan when I said that."

"What do you mean?" Ian replies curiously. She had the strangest ability to read him like an open book, something no one else could claim to be able to do. He was a mystery wrapped in and enigma that had been dropped inside the middle of a black hole…and yet he could see it there in her eyes. _She understands you,_ a little voice at the back of his mind whispers. _She sees you._

"You spent your first two days here becoming everyone's friend. You played it perfectly. Because of your record they were all wary of you but you spent two days dispelling their fears. Then tonight…tonight by the law of the cartels, by the code of family…you should have shot Carlos in his cheating face. But you didn't and they didn't find you weak for it. Instead you won their trust, their respect!" She replies mystified. "I stood there and I asked myself _why?_ _Why would he not take the shot?_ You had Carlos's life in your hands. At that exact moment in time, as you rolled up your sleeves, you were death, you were lady justice…you were San La Muerte. No. In that moment you were El Jefe, Cartel boss of Santo Realeza. But you didn't kill him. You pulled back. I saw your anger, I saw your need and then you pulled back. You reeled it in and you let him live."

"And you think you know why?" Ian asks tentatively, he didn't like the little burst of satisfaction he felt at the awe and admiration he was seeing in her dark eyes. She was praising him for beating a man's face into a bloody pulp. His instincts told him that it was wrong to get carried away here but it was her anger and her need that was pulling him towards her just as his had gravitated her towards him…

"You have their love, their guns, and their respect. Every man inside that house right now is scratching his head asking themselves what they can do to please you. Their fear of displeasing you far outweighs their fear _of_ you. That's why you didn't kill him, but it's also why Carlos is probably dead right now."

"You didn't?" Ian asks worried as frowning he looks back along the pier to the cartel's beach house where the party was still raging on without them.

"No. There are other ways that I can and I was hoping to please you…" She whispers seductively as she leans in close to Ian's ear, her breath tickling his skin.

*The Next Morning*

"You shouldn't be here," Colby states bluntly as he looks in his rear view mirror and jumps at the sight of Don sitting in the back of his black Ford. "What time did you even get in last night? I thought we were going to meet but you never came over."

"They had someone watching your door. I had to wait till I knew you were alone," Don replies unapologetically as Colby takes in his ragged appearance properly for the first time that morning. Don did not look well. His skin was pale, his eyes sunken and his hair too long. He'd also lost weight and it pained Colby to see his former boss and mentor like this. _Gees, what must Robin have thought when she'd confronted Don? He looked like a corpse…well minus the decomposing bit._

"They were watching my apartment?" Colby frowns nervously as he casts his glance around his apartment block's empty car park.

"Don't worry they left at dawn," Don sighs impatiently as he waits for Colby to compose himself. "I think they only wanted to make sure you didn't sneak off after the party. You were out quite late; I don't know why they were so worried."

"You were waiting here for me?" Colby asks gruffly, nervously wondering just how much Don saw last night…the party hadn't stopped on the yacht…

"I told you to watch him," Don replies huffily. "Not to become BFF's and braid each other's hair."

"I saw an opening, I exploited it," Colby grunts embarrassed.

After the BBQ, Drew and he had hit the clubs. It was the early hours of the morning by the time Drew's driver had dropped Colby back at his apartment and that was when Colby knew for sure. The AD was attracted to him. Drew had wanted to kiss Colby goodnight, but had stopped himself. Probably picking up on Colby's uneasiness. He wasn't gay in anyway… _but if it put a stop to PR_ …would he go there?

"What do you mean?" Don scowls unhappily as Colby's thick neck turns a bright shade of red.

"Ok look, I know what you are going to say, so just hear me out first!" Colby swivels in his seat to look Don in the eye. "He wants me to come by the office this morning to listen to a case I have. You know the arms dealer one that we couldn't get to stick. He's going to sort it for me. Get a conviction."

"Just like that?"

"Well there are strings."

"What strings?"

"I have to do a job for him in return."

"What's the job?"

"I don't know," Colby admits reluctantly. "Something small I recon. He's testing me Don. I could feel his interest last night. Drew wants me in PR. He just has to be sure first."

"Drew?" Don frowns, unable to keep his displeasure from his face. "Fuck sake Col. You are on a first name basis?"

"I know what I'm doing Don!" Colby argues as reasonably as he can without losing his patience at Don. He knew how frustrated Don was, but Colby had a handle on it.

"You do?" Don laughs, though there is no humour in it. "Well at least one of us does!"

"What do you mean?" Colby hesitates, something was not right. This was more than a usual Eppes brood. Something was wrong.

"It's Ian. You're right that he's not picking up. I haven't spoken to him in three days and I'm worried."

"Worried that they know?"

"No. Worried that he's in too deep. I've been undercover Col, so have you. You know what it's like. Lines blur, loyalties are tested…that dark part of ourselves is nourished…we do things we wouldn't usually do and we find ourselves liking it more and more…"

"You think he's switched sides?" Colby replies quietly. It was more a statement than a question, but Colby stated it as such because the truth of Don's admission had rocked him to his very core. Were they losing him? Were they too late?

"I think that we need to get this case wrapped up fast."

"Then trust me," Colby replies imploringly. "I have an in with management. Amita is due to start working on the financial angle. We will save him, even if it's from himself."

"Thank you," Don sighs relieved, as a realisation hit Colby. Don felt guilty. He'd pulled Ian into this. If anything was to happen to him…Colby shivered at the prospect…it just didn't bear thinking about.

"I should go." Colby tells Don reluctantly. He didn't like the thought of Don on his own right now but he really did need to get to the meeting with the AD.

"You're right." Don nods, though the act seems to only sap at the last of his strength as he opens the door and climbs out of the car. " Here's my new burner number. Call me after."

"Will do." Colby agrees as he takes the slip of paper and pockets it. When he looks back up to say goodbye Don is already gone.

Colby wasn't a religious man, but Don's words had certainly put the fear of God into him. Offering up a quick payer for help, Colby pulls out of the carpark and heads to the office.

It was time drastic action and any weakness needed to be exploited…Colby just hoped he had the balls to be convincing.

*Meanwhile in Santa Barbra*

Mouth dry and tongue like sandpaper, Ian struggles to raise an eyelid as he attempts to raise his head a little, but the action leaves his head swimming and he quickly drops it back down again. _Where am I?_ He wonders groggily as his tired brain registers a stabbing pain in his right hand. The pain was so intense he wondered if he had broken it. _That can't be right,_ he groans internally but for all he knew it could. His head was pounding too much for rational thought. In fact it was pounding so much it felt like someone was attempting to make scrambled egg with his brain…

"Good, you're finally awake," A lightly accented disembodied voice calls out to him from across the darkness. He thought the voice was feminine… _but that couldn't be right…could it?_

"What time is it?" He decides to ask the voice, not really expecting a reply and half wondering if he'd finally lost the plot all together.

"Seven thirty," The voice replies making Ian groan aloud this time. He was usually an early riser but this morning he really wished that he could just go back to bed and voiced as much.

"Just five more minutes…"

"No time, get up we're late."

"Late for what?"

"Church."

"Church! Now I know I've lost the plot!" Ian laughs as both his heavy eyelids snap open and focus on the corner of the room where the voice had been coming from. Except it wasn't just some disembodied voice. There was a beautiful, tall Hispanic woman; with hair as black as night and skin as smooth and tan as caramel…she was also only wearing a thong.

"I wasn't joking," Elaina replies soberly as she takes a pastel yellow summer dress out of the tall built in wardrobe and pulls it on over her head and down her silky skin. Something he could attest to because he had spent most of the night exploring her body. Her skin really was as soft and smooth as the satin sheets he was currently wrapped up in...

"I don't know," Ian grins broadly as he watches fascinated as she grabs a brush and starts combing all the tangles in her hair. _I put them there,_ he smiles proudly to himself as he remembers the feeling of her hair running through his long slender fingers and feels the longing in his…gut…begin to rise. "Should the devil really be attending church?"

"If he wants to build on the foundation he made last night with his men he does," She replies sternly without looking at him and ignoring his obvious erection through the satin sheets.

"I don't have anything to wear," Ian grumbles, though only half-heartedly. As much as he wanted to grab her and pull her back into bed, she had a point. He needed to get downstairs and make an appearance to the men… _but church?_ The last time he had been in a church he had killed two guys and arrested the other…

"There are plenty of suits in that wardrobe," She gestures behind her to the opposite wall where there was another built in wardrobe. "There will be one that fits."

Pulling off the covers and getting out of bed, only feeling a moment of embarrassment as he was completely naked, Ian crosses the room to the large double wardrobe that took up the space of the back wall and pulls back the doors to reveal a treasure trove of suits. "Some of these are Armani!" Ian replies shocked as he swivels around catching Elaina appreciatively checking out his naked ass in the mirror.

"Just because we're a cartel doesn't mean we don't know how to dress," Elaina rebukes him as she raises her perfectly manicured eyebrow at his semi-erect penis. "Especially for church."

"I guess," He grudgingly admits as he turns back around and starts rifling through the suits until he found a perfectly tailored grey suit with matching pastel yellow waist coat and pressed white shirt. Looking in the mirror at the finished effect, Ian had to admit he looked pretty damn sharp. The suit looked like it had been made just for him.

"Before we leave we had best get Doc to look at that hand. You'll want to get it splinted and a new dressing put on." Elaina tells him gently as she comes up beside him, taking his injured hand in hers and checks out the final look in the mirror. They looked like a couple that had been together for years and a part of Ian felt like he had known her just as long.

She was an enchantress and he was under her spell. He would have followed her anywhere that morning, evidenced by the fact that he was about to go to church… _what am I thinking?_ He wondered curiously as he breathed in the soft scent of spice and flowers. Her perfume was intoxicating and for a moment he forgot to breathe.

"You'll be fine," She smiles encouragingly, taking his moment of reflection as a moment of hesitation. "And you look great," She winks as gives his tight ass a gentle tap before stepping away to grab her small bag that was resting against the mirror on her dressing table.

"Unless I burn to death the second I step on hallowed ground," Ian jokes as he moves back over to the bed and grabs his keys and wallet from the bedside table. Wavering for a moment, Ian wonders if he should leave the phone behind. After all you can't take calls in church…but then he also didn't trust someone not to bug it whilst he was gone…

"Leave it," Elaina tells him from the open doorway making his mind up for him. "The room has a lock. It will be safe."

"What if management calls?" Ian explains although it was Don's call he was more worried about missing…he's already ignored the last three days' worth…

"Then you call them back when we return later. We'll only be gone for a few hours," She smiles enchantingly. "But it's up to you."

"You're right." Ian smiles as he shuts the phone away in the bedside table and moves around the bed to stand beside her. "Let's see Doc and then get this show on the road." Taking her hand in his uninjured one, Ian takes the lead in heading downstairs to the cartel beach house's large kitchen; forgetting completely about locking the door.

*Back in LA*

"How did you get home in the end?" Amita asks curiously as she hits the button for the nineteenth floor. "Charlie said you gave him your keys but by that point had drunk too much and made me drive him home!" She adds bitterly making Colby's already throbbing headache pound harder. He really didn't need to be dealing with Charlie and Amita's marital problems this morning. Not with Don looking like death and Ian ignoring his phone calls.

"Drew and I went on to a couple clubs after the party wound down," Colby shrugged helpless as he watched the number above the door slowly climb to nineteen.

"Drew eh?" Amita smiles interested. "Did you two know each other before his promotion?" _And there it is_ , he thought bitterly... _Don was right I sound too casual about the next AD of the FBI..._

"No but we both served in the same camp in Afghanistan," He replies truthfully as he shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. "There was a lot of reminiscing..." He continues vaguely, reluctant to involve Amita more than necessary. Drew and his friendship had to be convincing and considering Colby really liked his new boss that wasn't hard to fake...it was the potential crime lord, criminal mastermind and murdering asshole bit that Col really didn't want to get into. Mainly because that then led to awkward conversations about what that made him as he really liked Drew and hoped Don was wrong...

 _I mean he did say Nick told him_ , he reminds himself as he tries to put the whole mess back into perspective.

"Well it's good that he's approachable at least," Amita nods as the elevator's doors ping open for the nineteenth floor.

"He'll be good for moral at least," Colby agrees reluctantly as he surveys the busy hum of agents hard at work at their desks. "Nick's death...and Don's has hit this agency hard."

"Well I for one am happy to be getting back to work as normal," Amita smiles sadly, a slight furrow to her perfectly manicured eyebrows.

"You don't look or sound happy to be back," Colby observes aloud as he walks Amita around to a small cubby office off the main floor. It would be her _'bat cave'_ as Charlie liked to call it.

"I guess it's just all the sad memories..." She replies quietly as she surveys the monitors and computer set up.

"It's ok?" Colby asks about the room, feeling too awkward to push her on her _'feelings'_ and selfishly not wanting to anyway; he was late to meet Drew and he still had to collect the file from his office...

"Looks great," She nods as she gives the monitor closest to her a little stroke. "I do love the FBI's budget," She grins, the nerd in her unable to ignore the quality of the tech. "Who was it you wanted me to run a background on?"

"That's the thing..." Colby shift's awkwardly.

"My first job back isn't for the FBI is it," She replies flatly as Colby at least had the decency to blush.

"Technically it is...it's just not an _official_ investigation yet."

"Who is it?"

"Rob Sacco. That's not his real name though."

"Wait isn't he an FBI forensic accountant?" Amita asks confused as she sits gingerly down in her new swivel chair.

"Yes, he's also a lieutenant in PR, possibly even the underboss. What I need you to find out is how he went from being Marland Bevin to Rob Sacco and who he was...hell where he was in between."

"Ok, sure...I can do that."

"I also need to know...I need to know if there is a connection between him and Drew."

 _"You think Drew is PR?"_ she gasps appalled.

"Let's just say I want to make sure our new AD is on the up and up," Colby lies. "I really want to trust him, but I'm not sure if we can...so yeah...please look into him too. Especially his past in New York and any connection he might have to an investigation into the South Kings gang."

"I'll get right on it."

"Thank you Amita," Colby smiles as he gives her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "It really is good to have you back with us."

"Thanks Col," She smiles back as she boots up the PC and crack's her knuckles ready to work her magic.

"I'll check back in on you in a bit," He tells her as he makes for the door but she had already put on her headphones, lost in a world of code.

 _Was it wrong that he really didn't want her to find anything on Drew?_

Ignoring his conflicting sense of loyalties, Colby heads across the large open plan office, greeting agents as he passes until he makes it to Don's...his office and heads inside.

"You're late," A voice jumps out at him from the dark, making Colby jump out of his skin.

"Fucking hell!" He screams as he reaches for his gun with one hand and his racing heart with the other. "You frightened the shit out of me!" He practically screams, drawing looks from a few passers-by as Drew swivels around in the chair to reveal himself behind the desk.

"When you didn't make it to our meeting I thought I'd come and find you. _You were serious about our arrangement to help each other out weren't you?"_ Drew asks seriously as he arches and curious eyebrow.

"Of course!" Colby rushes to appease Drew as he moves over to the windows and opens the blinds. "I was just seeing Amita settled first."

"Amita Ramanujan, the infamous hacker and ex-wife of Professor Eppes?"

"The one and only," Colby nods slowly, a little unsettled that Drew seemed to know her surname... _shit…they haven't bugged her office have they?_

"I've heard good things about her," Drew nods approvingly as he gestures for Colby to sit down in one of the two chairs opposite the desk designed for guests. "She's worked for us before right?"

"Yes, her and Charlie both did."

"Then it can only be good that she has returned. As has the elusive professor Eppes. He doesn't like me very much, does he?" Drew states it as a question but Colby could heard it more as a statement of fact. _And Drew definitely wasn't wrong there!_

"He doesn't like strangers," Colby shrugs, trying to make light of the situation. "He didn't like me when I first started," Colby continues, adding another lie to the bunch he had already told that day. Thankfully Drew doesn't seem to notice as it was actually the other way around; Colby was unsure how he felt about Charlie and solving cases via numbers. Colby couldn't argue with results though and well what could he say the kid grew on him.

"Then I will have think of a way to change his opinion," Drew smiles charmingly and Colby felt the familiar stab of guilt in his already overly stressed heart. _Can he really be who Don says he is? "_ Right, on to business. Is this the case file?" Drew asks pointing at an open file in front of him on the desk.

"Yes," Colby nods as he looks over the desk at the open file.

"Should be simple enough," Drew smiles as he shuts the file and places it in a briefcase behind him.

"Just like that?"

"What do I have to do to get you to trust me?" Drew asks seriously; his smile gone, replaced with a slight frown.

"I do trust you," Colby replies honestly and without hesitation. _That's the problem..._ he thought silently.

"Good," Drew nods happily. "Because I trust you too."

"Well...I'm glad we cleared that up," Colby laughs nervously, a blush creeping up his neck.

"Me too," Drew laughs as well as he reaches inside the briefcase once more and pulls out a brown package. "Your end of the bargain," Drew replies as he leaves the package on the desk and stands up. "I'm going to be in meetings with the Director all morning,'' He rolls his eyes heavenward, "But I need this to be delivered up town by five pm this evening."

"And you want me to deliver it? That's it?"

"Yes, that's it."

"Doesn't seem much as a way of a thank you?" Colby frowns at the package as Drew moves around the desk to stand by Colby's side.

"It's important, _trust me,"_ Drew replies soberly, a look in his eye that frightens Colby for a moment, before it passes and Drew is all smiles again.

"Then I will get it there early," Colby agrees reluctantly as he stands up and moves around his desk to look at it closer.

"Thank you."

"So...what is it?" Colby asks curiously as he picks it up and feels the weight of it.

"It's contents are not important," Drew replies quickly stopping Colby from peeling back the edge to have a look. "Just that it arrives at five."

"Ok then," Colby agrees, ignoring the burning curiosity in his gut. Trying but failing to hide his disappointment.

"Do this for me Col and we can talk about maybe teaming up permanently. You will find that there are a lot of perks to being my friend."

"I'd like that," Colby smiles reluctantly as he meets Drew's eyes across the desk. "I'd like that a lot..."

"Me too," Drew grins suddenly, lighting up the whole office. "Five o'clock, address is on the package."

"No problem!" Colby calls out to Drew's retreating back as he picks the package up once more. He had a couple things he had to sort out in his office and then there was no time like the present right? Putting it to one side, Colby resists the urge to start picking at the edges. Drew would know if it had been tampered with and he really didn't want to start off their new _'partnership'_ by breaking his trust... _it really was tempting though..._

 _No_ , he thinks strongly to himself as he puts the package out of his mind and opens up one of the files on his desk. _Trust_. He needed to trust his instincts. If Drew was PR then this package was a test and if he wasn't PR then it wasn't any of Colby's business. _Trust_ , he thought again sardonically... _easier said than done!_


	17. Chapter 17

**17**

 _*"It doesn't matter how scared you were. It doesn't matter if you wet your pants, man. There's nobody out here who's gonna hear it." – Colby Granger_

 _Season 4, Episode 11: Breaking Point*_

Pulling on his jacket and placing the package in the crook of his arm, Colby makes his way out of the office and rushes across the large open plan room. Keeping his head down and ignoring all attempts to engage him in conversation, Colby hits the button to call the lift, giving it a few extra impatient taps when the doors don't immediately open.

"Colby!" Samantha shouts out from across the room, making his head snap up from his phone which he was in the process of turning off. Neck flushed and expression guilty, Colby turns to face her just as the lift doors pull apart.

"Sam," He acknowledges her with an annoyed frown and unhappy grimace. _He'd really meant to return her calls..._

"We need to talk!" She shouts as a stream of people move around Colby who was still blocking the entrance of the lift.

"And we will," He replies placatingly as he raises his hands defensively, well as high as he could with the package weighing a ton in his arms. "Just not now..." Stepping back Colby gets on the lift and watches as the doors slide mercifully shut on her furious expression. He knew he needed to talk to her, it was just a conversation he really didn't want to have. _Coward!_ His brain shouts stubbornly as ignoring the stabbing pain in his heart, he pushes the button for the FBI lobby.

"Col," Liz greets him as the lift doors ping open on the thirteenth floor. _Unlucky for some,_ he thinks grumpily as he takes in the unhappy expression on her face. He really didn't have time to deal with every female that was pissed off at him at the moment. _There would be a long queue if he did._

"Liz," He acknowledges quietly in the hopes that would leave it at that, but he was not that fortunate.

"What is this I'm hearing about AD Andrew Castle taking on the 'Brickwork Killer' case?"

"He's gonna have a run at it for me," Colby shrugs, hoping she would take the hint that it wasn't a big deal and drop it. Naturally she didn't.

"And what can he do that we haven't?" She replies outraged as Colby taps impatiently at the lift button for the lobby again, desperate to get the ride over with.

"Fresh eyes, better connections," Colby frowns his annoyance, but Liz was not the sort of woman to be quelled by a disapproving look. _What was he supposed to say? Your right there's nothing new he can do that we haven't already done without being the dodgy PR crime boss that Don thinks he is?_ She didn't even know that Don was alive and that was a conversation he was definitely not going to have in an FBI lift whilst holding a package that felt like a bomb.

"You know that we haven't missed anything," Liz sulks as she swats Colby painfully on the arm. He hated playing the _'I'm now the boss card',_ especially with Liz...he'd been in love with her too long to not treat her as his equal...but times were changing and his patience was worn thin today and he was semi aware that he might be suffering from a heart attack...

"Liz, drop it. Drew offered his help and I took him up on it. You have other cases that need your attention. _I suggest you get on with them."_

"Yes sir!" She replies sarcastically as the lift doors open and Colby strides out without so much as a goodbye, headed straight for the exit. _Females! They would be the death of him yet!_

*Meanwhile in Santa Barbra*

Ian couldn't remember the last time that he had gone to church, sometime when he was just starting out in the FBI most likely. He seemed to recall that a fugitive he'd been chasing had been hiding out in one… _and he'd tracked him down there?_ The memory was so faded that he wasn't even sure if it was one. Could have been the plot to a really bad B movie he'd watched once. It certainly sounded like one!

"Don't look so nervous," Elaina whispers huskily in his ear, her breath warming his skin as she takes his good hand in hers, locking their fingers together before resting them in her lap.

"I'm not," Ian replies honestly, a light smile pulling at the corners of his mouth because he really wasn't. He knew that he probably should be. His thoughts about Elaina right now were certainly sinful enough to burn him alive the second he stepped on hallowed ground…but instead he felt oddly calm.

 _Probably the drugs,_ his tired brain suggests lamely in an attempt to make itself useful. _Doc_ , as the cartel's concierge Doctor was informally known, had given him a couple of Vicodin before they had left the beach house that morning and Ian was feeling great! His hand had been splinted and the pain was nothing more than a dull ache. He was lucky that he hadn't broken it, only fractured one knuckle. _Who knew that Carlos had such a hard head!_ Or that Ian had packed a bigger punch than intended. _You lost control,_ his brain chastises disapprovingly as he frowns out of the window at the clogged streets. He really hated losing control.

"Oh my God!" Elaina exclaims unhappily. "Are you high right now?"

"Doc might have given me something…" Ian giggles… _I know right!_

"What did he give you?" She asks so horrified that Ian can't help but laugh again, his dark thoughts about Carlos completely forgotten as he focused all of his attention on the beautiful Latino woman who looked about ready to deck him one and he'd never wanted her more…

"Honestly, I'm fine," He attempts to reassure her but his words fell on deaf ears. "I only took a couple! I'm not high…just exceedingly relaxed!"

"Well exceedingly relaxed Ian needs to sober up! I can't have you meeting Father Michael high!" Elaina frowns furiously as she grabs at Ian's jacket and starts searching the pockets. "Cough them up," She orders sternly when her initial search comes up empty.

"Yes mum!" Ian mocks playfully as he reaches inside the splint and pulls out the little orange prescription bottle.

"Mrs Nesbit?" She cocks an eyebrow at him when she reads the name on the bottle.

"What? I like Toy Story," Ian grins his sly cat like grin making Elaina laugh. He knew she wasn't really mad, just as he felt like he'd known her his entire life…

"Don't look at me like that!" She protests half-heartedly as she fakes a pout. "You know I can't resist it when you smile like that!"

 _Did he know that? They had only met the other night…and yet yes, he did feel like he was in tune with her on a level that he had never been with anyone else…_ and he was even eighty percent sure that he wasn't feeling that way because of the drugs or lack of sleep; which was saying a lot in his book!

"We're here," Their driver Frankie interrupts suddenly, pulling Elaina and Ian's attention back to their surroundings and sure enough they had pulled up in front of a surprisingly large and quite beautiful yellow church. The strong architecture of the building had a very Spanish vibe; Ian liked the look of it a lot.

"Well no turning back now," He grimaces as he lets go of Elaina's hand and opens the car door to get out.

"Jefe," A Latino man greets Ian as he steps from the car. The man was so smartly dressed that Ian wasn't sure at first if he was a member of the cartel or not but upon closer inspection Ian spied a noticeable bulge under the jacket where a gun was hidden and a tattoo of a gang insignia poking out from above the shirt collar. "If you would like to follow me."

"Where to?" Ian asks suspiciously as he realises that along with his phone Ian had also left his gun behind. Who knew it was acceptable to bring a gun to church? _Stupid really,_ Ian chastises himself furiously as Elaina makes her way around the car to stand by his side.

"It's ok," She explains softly as she takes his hand in hers again and points towards a side entrance to the church. "El Jefe usually enters from the side, you'd get mobbed the second you enter the doors otherwise. Besides this gives you a chance to meet Father Michael before the service starts."

"In that case lead on," Ian smiles unhappily before forcing a relaxed demeanour on his otherwise pinched face as she starts to pull him towards the side entrance that she had pointed to earlier.

Ian really wasn't sure if he would ever get used to the whole gang boss thing as the smartly dressed man falls in line behind like an unwanted shadow. _Oh my God…is he supposed to be my bodyguard?_ He realises suddenly as he also realises that he didn't really have a choice but to get used to it and fast! There definitely was no going back now!

Forcing the smile a little more, Ian pretends to act more confident that he was currently feeling and tried to focus his tired brain for what was to come. He needed his A game if he was going to survive the morning. _I mean forgot his gun! What was this woman doing to him?_

*Back in LA*

Driving downtown in LA in rush hour traffic was an ordeal even at the best of times. Throw in a mysterious brown package, contents currently unknown, sitting on the front passenger seat of his black Ford with all the ominous potential of a ticking time bomb and…well yeah, Colby was a nervous wreck!

He wasn't worried about getting there in time; he still had plenty of time for that. _That_ wasn't what was concerning him. What was concerning him was the black SUV pickup truck that was two cars behind him in the queue. He was sure that it was the same one that had left the FBI carpark with him…ok he wasn't entirely sure…but it was definitely the same one that had followed him for the last six blocks. That he _was_ sure of…

Ok so what he was actually sure of was that the SUV was stuck in the same traffic jam as him. It was a little harder to prove that your being followed when all you had done was crawl forwards at a snail's pace for at least the last twenty minutes.

Ignoring the tight constriction in his chest, Colby decides that he's finally had enough. It was time to put his theory to the test. Indicating left Colby watches intently in the rear view mirror as the SUV's left indicator flicks on a minute or two later.

 _Hmmm_ … _not definitive proof,_ Colby scowls his disappointment as the car didn't copy him until it had crawled forwards two cars lengths and was a little closer to the turning. No, the definitive proof came when instead of turning left Colby turns right and the SUV turns right with him.

 _Got you!_ Colby thinks triumphantly, though his glee is short lived as he realises that in his haste to prove that the car had been following him he had turned off into an unfamiliar part of town. Worse, as he and the SUV were the only ones to turn off, there was no longer a buffer of cars between them and the SUV was closing the gap! _What is the point when your cover is blown,_ Colby's brain rationalises sourly whilst simultaneously panicking.

Speeding up, Colby takes a series of erratic turns in an attempt to lose his tail. The windows of the SUV were tinted, so it wasn't even like Colby could see who his pursuer was for fucks sake. In fact with his heart in his throat, his pulse racing, and his brain about set to explode from all the tension, Colby lost all control of rational thought. I need to get away...drive faster...his brain urges and Colby does his best to comply but everything Colby did was useless. The SUV barely fell behind and eventually Colby made the fatal error of turning down a dead end. Slamming his foot on the breaks, Colby just about manages to stop himself from careening into the brick wall at the end of the narrow alley.

Stopping a cars distance behind him, the SUV pulls to a more controlled stop. Colby doesn't stop to watch, however, as he grabs his gun from its holster and cocks it ready. Keep one in the chamber and make sure the safety's off, he repeats his training as he does just that as he prepares himself for the coming fight.

They want the package! His stressed brain nudges him, the only coherent thought he'd actually had since leaving the FBI carpark and Colby grabbed on to it like a man drowning in the ocean that had just been thrown a life preserver. He had no doubts that they would take the package from him. He was just one man trapped in an alley and it sounded like all four of the SUV's doors had opened and closed. Worse it sounded like a small army had poured out of the car and was now approaching on foot. He probably had a minute to think of something, or the package would be gone forever.

A tracker? His brain suggests lamely. If he had a GPS he could follow them and get the parcel back...

Problem was that he didn't carry trackers around with him, despite what people thought of the FBI. What about your phone? The non-burner one...of course! He almost laughs. There was a bug in his phone probably put there by PR when he had become SAIC. All he knew was that it had been there since the day he had met Samantha on the park bridge and she had first told him all about PR and what they were up to. He had never removed it because he hadn't wanted to let on that he had known about it. Someone was listening and following him so Colby always had to be careful about where he went and what he said when he was carrying it on him.

More importantly was the tracker that was hidden in there next to the bug. Placing his gun on the dashboard in front of him, Colby quickly pulls his phone from his jacket pocket and yanks the back open. Fingers shaking, Colby scrambles to pull the little GPS out, making sure to note the serial number as it looked to be FBI grade tech and pushes it into a little opening that he makes in the corner of one of the packages seams.

After that it all happened so quickly that Colby wasn't sure if he'd ever recall all of the details correctly. What he could remember was that seconds after popping the GPS inside the parcel, glass seemed to shatter from everywhere as both passenger and driver side windows smashed simultaneously showering Colby and the front cab of his Ford in broken shards of glass.

"Give me the package," a gruff voice calls through the open window as cold hard metal presses itself against Colby's temple.

"Ok, ok!" Colby shouts as he raises his hands defensively whilst passing the parcel through the now open window at the same time.

"Smart move," the voice praises him as the cold metal is pulled back from Colby's head. Relief instantly floods Colby's already adrenaline fuelled body as his scattered brain wonders if the package was really worth all of this trouble in the first place. He should have looked, then he'd know. Probably drugs, was the last thought Colby had before the gun comes streaking back through the window, whipping him across the head, cracking his skull.

He must have passed out because the next thing Colby knew he was waking up hunched over the steering wheel, pain everywhere. Groggily Colby pats himself down, making sure that the only injuries were the ones he could feel on his hands and face.

"Fuck," He curses as his eyes flick to the rear-view mirror and he sees the damage for the first time. That's why you can't see properly out the corner of one eye, he thinks numbly as he takes in the streaks of blood that were dripping from an open wound across his right temple. The really curious thing was the small shards of glass poking out of his cheek... "Fuck," He repeats himself as he reaches up and pulls the glass from his face causing fresh bleeding. Fortunately it didn't gush...he might have thrown up if it had...

Reaching inside his blood splattered jacket, Colby pulls out the burner phone and Don's new cell number that Don had given him earlier. His hands, perhaps unsurprisingly, were shaking so hard that he had to take several attempts to punch the number in correctly. He must be in shock...his brain rationalised as he listened patiently to the dial tone.

"Yes?" Don's low voice sounds reassuringly in Colby's ear only minutes later and Colby could have wept at the sound of it.

"It's me," Colby groans down the line, though it sounded more like he was shouting. His head was certainly ringing loud enough. You probably have a concussion that strangely rational part of his brain whispers as he waits for Don to realise who 'me' is.

"Col?" Don asks confused. "Are you ok?" He sounded worried, but then Colby supposed he'd probably sound the same were the roles reversed. I must sound like I feel, he thinks reluctantly, hating to admit to himself that his voice was still shaking from the fear he'd felt when he'd felt the gun being pressed against his head. He'd almost pissed himself for sure!

"No," He replies flatly to Don's question before launching into a long explanation of everything that had just happened. Filling Don in as best he could, though he was the first to admit that he wasn't the most reliable witness right now. He was probably getting most of the details wrong and Don said as much once Colby had finished.

"You need to go to the hospital," Don recommends once Colby stops rambling enough to let him get a word in.

"There's no time," Colby rushes to cut Don off. The hospital could wait, the package needed to come first. Looking at the dashboards clock Colby scowls as he realises that he's lost a whole hour being unconscious. He only had three more to get the package back and deliver it. He knew what Don was about to say, 'fuck the package', but Colby couldn't lose Drew's trust. They couldn't stop PR without it.

"Ok, ok," Don finally relents once Colby tells him as much. "Tell me where you are, I'm leaving now to get you. Meanwhile call Amita, get her tracking that package."

"Thank you," Colby hangs up the phone. He didn't know Amita's number by heart and it wasn't in the burner phone. So whilst he waited for Don to get there he rooted around the wrecked cab for his work phone and the missing back. It took more effort than it should to reconstruct with his hands shaking so much, so taking a moment to let his heart settle back down into an almost normal rhythm Colby waits a moment to give Amita the call. He really didn't want to sound weird on the phone because that would lead to awkward questions and explanations he wasn't ready to give again so soon.

*Meanwhile Back in Santa Barbra*

The first thing that Ian noticed about the church was how cold it was inside. The building was very old and the architect had clearly been savvy in the ways of besting the unrelenting LA sunshine. The stone walls looked thick and were covered in frescos and murals depicting Jesus Christ and a woman Ian assumed were supposed to be the Virgin Mary. The floor was tiled, the pillars were marble and the roof was supported by high wooden beams. On a whole the church looked very grand but also very austere. He knew he didn't go to church often, or like ever, and there was no way he could be mistaken for an expert on what they should look like, but Ian was sure that they were usually gaudier than this one.

That was what he had noticed second. The high stained glass windows sent colourful shafts of light glittering through the church that was gracefully decorated with colourful paper chains, flowers and tapestries. Ian couldn't see a glimpse of gold or silver anywhere. In many ways, most of which he found surprising even to him, was that it made him instantly fall in love with the quaint old building.

"Beautiful, isn't it," Elaina echoes his thoughts exactly as she guides him down one of the churches two side isles as he admires the crossed stone roof arches that divided up the path.

"Very," Was all he could think as he appreciates the clean smooth finish of the wooden pews as they passed. The church was very well taken care of. _Lovingly_ , he thought, _lovingly taken care of_.

"Come," She nudges him forwards again when he stops too long to look at one of the many frescos on the wall. It was a scene depicting a semi-naked man lying prostrate before God whilst at the same time being helped to stand again by Mary. "Father Michael is this way."

' _This way'_ was right at the rear of the church to the right of the solid marble alter that was currently decorated with daises, carnations and chrysanthemums, and was where Ian, Elaina and his new bodyguard shadow found Father Michael's office. It was interestingly the only modern looking part of the church. It was probably also the smallest. There was barely enough room for the desk let alone the two chairs that were stuffed in front of it to receive guests. It resembled a cupboard more than an office.

"Father," Elaina smiles warmly at the old man behind the desk who looks up from his newspaper to greet them.

"Hija," He returns her smile, the effort cracking his old wrinkled face. Ian would have guessed that _'Father Michael'_ was at least sixty just on the wrinkles and white hair alone. _Wait! Daughter?_ He thinks suddenly as he realises what the old priest had called Elaina. His Spanish was rusty, but there was no mistaking it now that he looked harder. Father Michael was the spitting image of Julio and Elaina.

"Is this him?" Michael asks Elaina unimpressed as he gestures at Ian with the slightest flick of his head.

"Yes papá," She nods sombrely as she drops Ian's hand like she'd been burnt. "Ian Edgerton," she introduces him, "This is my father. Michael Esteban."

"Encantado," Ian smiles politely as he holds out his hand in greeting but if Michael was impressed by Ian's Spanish he didn't show it. He didn't shake Ian's hand either. _Not very friendly for a priest,_ Ian thinks uncomfortably as he drops his hand to his side. He supposed that Michael was a papá first in this scenario. _He knows how you spent your night,_ his sadistic brain taunts him as for the first time in his life Ian blushes like a schoolboy who had been caught with his pants down behind the bleachers.

"Elaina, leave us," Michael orders flatly and the usually fearless Elaina doesn't even hesitate to comply in the face of her father's displeasure.

"Good luck," She whispers as she parts his peck sympathetically as she passes before leaving and closing the door behind her.

"So you're the new boss," Michael states matter of factly as he gives Ian a once over, making him glad he had picked the Armani suit that morning.

"Yes," Ian replies equally flatly, refusing to be intimidated. Michael was correct. Ian was now the boss of a major cartel in California. He didn't know quite how that had happened but now it had it was time he acted more like one. _At least until Don turned up and solved the mystery of PR..._

"I've heard good things," Michael muses quietly as he takes a seat and gestures for Ian to take one too. "I was surprised when my daughter told me that some Gringo had come from LA and taken over. The men were loyal to Carlos...or so Carlos thought. I guess I'm just surprised that they are so willing to follow a Gringo ex-cop. The way Elaina described you, I was expecting a God."

"Sorry to disappoint Father and technically I'm American-Filipino. I'm also still an active FBI Agent. I suppose that makes it even more surprising for you, it is to me. Elaina says I won the hearts and minds of the men. I don't know how I did that. Taking over wasn't my intention when I came here." Ian replies honestly. He didn't want to go down the route of trying to intimidate the priest, not that he thought it would work even if he tried. But he did want to be frank with him that he wouldn't tolerate being insulted either.

"You're right, that almost makes your take over, for want of a better word, impressive..." Michael reflects plainly to himself, _a note of admiration in his voice?_ "Hearts and minds eh?"

"What can I say, I'm a likeable guy," Ian shrugs, half joking. "I'm curious though," Ian adds after a moment of silence waiting for Michael to gesture for him to continue. "What interest does a priest have in the local Cartel anyway?"

"You are a shrewd man Mr Edgerton and grudgingly...I like that. I can see why my daughter has taken such a shine to you."

"You should probably know that I have taken quite a shine to her too," Ian replies honestly and sees the faintest flicker of a smile touch the old man's face.

"A blind man could see that..." Michael chuckles as the first hints of warmth enter the tiny room. "You should also probably know that Elaina plans to ask you for control of Julio's men."

"Ah," Ian nods, a slight frown pulling at his tense brow. She had told him she wanted to make a deal. Ian wondered how Elaina would feel about her father coming to him first. "And you want me to refuse her." He guessed as he considered the proposal.

"No I want you to let her."

"What?" Ian replies confused. He was already preparing the speech he'd have to give her that let her down gently and yet kept her in his bed because the _'deal'_ was clearly the only reason she was sleeping with him in the first place.

"My son is an idiot," Michael explains disgustedly and Ian got the impression that if they hadn't been in church Michael might have spit his disgust out on the floor. That was how vehemently he spoke about his son.

"I won't disagree here. I've met your son."

"He told me," Michael frowns at the memory, making Ian squirm in his seat.

"Yes well, that's the world you want Elaina to be in charge of," Ian reminds the old priest, because he was clearly unhinged. "You can't honestly want your daughter running drugs."

"I'm not my son, I'm not an idiot Mr Edgerton-"

"-Ian."

"Ian," Michael nods and cracks a proper smile for the first time. "I've been a priest here for thirty years. In my time here I've seen everyone. Half my congregation are in your gang. That is just the nature of this neighbourhood. With so many rival Cartels and gangs in the area it's actually safer to be in one than out. Julio was a little shit growing up. He was never destined for anything else, despite my attempts to get him out, to give him a decent education and upbringing."

"Like you say, idiot."

"Elaina is different," Michael continues his reverie, ignoring Ian's interruption. "She is smart, cunning, beautiful...she was always destined for more than some bangers bitch. She's a lot like you...shrewd...a business woman. The men will follow her if that is what you are worried about."

"Something about her makes me wonder if I'd ever need to worry about her. She seems like the type of woman who can take care of herself," Ian nods understandingly.

"She's a lot like her mother that way," Michael smiles fondly at a picture Ian hadn't noticed on the wall of Elaina and an older looking lady kissing, hugging and laughing.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Ian expresses genuine sadness as he looks at the happy family photo to the right of the one next to Elaina and her mother. Ian had never had that…and seeing the love in the photo made his heart pinch in a way it hadn't in a long, _long_ time. He thought he had put that sadness to bed…who knew his family, or lack of one, could still affect him thirty years later?

"Thank you, I'm sorry for yours too…" Michael replies awkwardly as he notices the not so subtle shift in Ian's face. There was a deep grief there that Ian usually kept hidden but every now and again, like in the face of this happy family photo, the mask occasionally slipped…

"It's not really a loss if you never had it to begin with," Ian mocks philosophically as he adjusts the mask back in place and turns his focus away from the photo and back on the old priest. "Now about this deal," Ian changes the subject just as it looks like Michael was going to reply. "You call it a deal so you obviously expect me to ask for something in return."

"Quid pro quo," Michael shrugs as he sits back in his seat and regards Ian who was sat a little stiffly in his own, clearly still rattled from the unexpected emotion generated by the photo. "That's usually how negotiation works."

"So we are negotiating now?" Ian smiles his cat like smile, it was not a friendly smile.

"I'll admit I don't know much about you. The fact that you work for PR concerns me. Cops have never had my people's best interests at heart."

"And they still don't," Ian agrees flatly as he regards the old man. "They care about money, business, profit…the bottom line."

"The fact that you admit as much," Michael smiles gently in his priestly way, "Tells me enough about you to know that you are an honourable man. So whatever you want in return, ask it and it is yours."

"You think you know me?" Ian shakes his head, a hint of a smile on his lips. "You know nothing."

"Then enlighten me."

"You are right that I am not a bottom line kind of man. Before PR I tracked fugitives. It was not a glamorous job. I was basically a glorified bounty hunter with a badge. The worst scum of the earth, the sort of people you wouldn't want Elaina associating with, I tracked them down and I locked them up. I spent my days alone because life is just easier that way. Hell I lived in a tent. Profit doesn't interest me."

"Why did you join PR then?"

"Because sometimes you can't escape the past…and it was time to think about the future…" Ian replies quietly, lost in thought. "I tried to put roots down once…I moved to LA and even lived there in an apartment for two years. But a couple of ex-cons broke out of prison and came looking for me. Putting down roots, staying in one place…that was a mistake, _stupid_."

"What happened?" Michael prods Ian to continue when after a long silence it seemed like Ian wouldn't.

"They stabbed me," Ian replies pained as his hand rests gently on his stomach where under the suit an ugly scar was. As soon as I was back on my feet I quit LA…went back on the road. Hunted down the pair and…well…they won't be hurting anyone else ever again."

"I'm sorry you were hurt," Michael sympathises softly as he tried to mask the horrified expression Ian's tale had left on his face.

"Don't be," Ian smiles sardonically. "It's part of the job. I've been shot three times, stabbed twice…like I say it's part of the job, plus I'm ex Special Forces."

"That explains a lot," Michael laughs as he strokes thoughtfully at the hint of a five o clock shadow on his jaw, he must have skipped shaving that morning. "So if you aren't in it for profit why are you in PR?"

"Recently…about six months ago a file made its way into my possession. Before that I had never even heard of PR. Look I don't know what I believe in anymore, sorry Father."

"That's ok, continue."

"I guess a part of me believes that its fate…" Ian sighs tiredly as he stands up and moves over to a small window in the side wall of the small cupboard of a room. It was the only window and the only light source. Through it Ian could see a steady stream of smartly dressed people entering the front of the church. Michael would have a healthy audience for his sermon later. "PR allows me to cut through all the red tape." Ian finally admits, surprising even himself. It was the only part of PR that he genuinely liked and believed in.

"That's understandable, the justice system is flawed," Michael agrees making Ian turn to look at him. " _But_ ," Michael really emphasises the word making Ian smile, "It is there for a reason. I've known a lot of cases where dirty cops take advantage."

"Dirty cop…" Ian laughs without humour, "I guess that's what I am now."

"No Ian. I don't see a bad man when I look at you."

"You should. I do bad things and not always for the right reasons…and it feels so good."

"If doing the right thing was easy it wouldn't be the right thing," Michael shrugs as he gestures for Ian to take a seat once more and Ian complies.

"You know sometimes I think the reason they blindfold lady liberty is because they know what PR knows. That sometimes you have to cut through all the bullshit to get to the real criminals. The people that the police fail to catch and the lawyers fail to lock up."

"Spoken like a true cop," Michael replies quietly but he doesn't say it unkindly.

"No," Ian shakes his head sadly. "Spoken like someone who has seen too many good people hurt by violent men. Carlos was a violent man. He needed to be stopped. The fact that he was cheating PR was just the perfect excuse to get rid of him."

"I didn't care for Carlos," Michael nods without judgement. "I am happy he is gone…I will pray for forgiveness for that later, but it's true. He made many of my parishioner's lives miserable…and he had his ideas about Elaina. In truth I was worried about your own intentions. Especially when you walked in holding hands…I'm an old man Ian, but I think by now I can get a good measure of a man. Everything you have told me makes me think that you are a good man. An honest man…a decent man. I can also see that you have a darkness in you, one that you wrestle with every day…but then don't we all?"

"What are you saying Father?"

"That you will be a good leader to the men…and a worthy match for Elaina. Think on my proposition. Whatever you want…whatever you ask…I will do."

"And in return I will see Elaina is put in charge of Julio's men?" Ian smiles as he shakes his head sadly. _What did he want though? What could this priest really give him of any value?_

"I know you probably think I can't offer much," Michael adds desperately, reading Ian's mind. "But the men talk to me…in the confessionals…I know a lot that would be helpful to a man in your position."

"Tell me Father…" Ian asks curiously as an idea starts to form at Michael's admission. "Has a man stopped by your confessional and unburdened himself about a murder he committed six months ago in LA. The death of a certain AD of the FBI?"

"AD Nick Callaghan's murder?" Michael asks surprised. "I would have thought a member of PR would already be privy to such information."

"I joined after and Management doesn't grant many audiences."

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Can I ask why you want to know?"

"He was a friend…"

"And when you catch up with your friend's murderer…what do you plan on doing to him?"

"I honestly haven't decided…but you said anything. I will make Elaina head of her brother's racket if you give up the identity of Nick's murderer. That's the deal," Ian replies harshly, his tone cold like steel.

"Miguel Thiago."

"Do you know how I can find him?"

"No. He is an assassin for the Cartel though so ask Elaina. She might know someone who can get you in touch with him."

"Ok then…" Ian nods numbly. _Miguel Thiago,_ he hadn't known what to expect that morning but the name of Nick's killer…this was huge. _I need to tell Don!_

"Ok then," Michael nods as a gentle rapping sounds on the door. "That will be Elaina reminding me that I still have a sermon to give today…will you stay to hear it?"

"I'd like that," Ian replies honestly. He liked the old priest and for the first time since he had been stabbed a couple years ago he felt like he belonged somewhere. Flicking his gaze to the photo of Elaina's family on the wall Ian feels the slightest of pinches in his heart again. _And his heart grew three sizes that day!_ He thinks mockingly as he remembers the quote from the Grinch Who Stole Christmas as an impatient Elaina bursts into the small office.

"You haven't killed each other then," She observes dryly as she raises a sceptical brow at them.

"On the contrary," Michael laughs, a completely different person to the one that had first greeted Ian earlier. "I need to get changed, Elaina please take Ian to the front pew and I'll see you both out there. It was nice to meet you son," Michael adds, holding his hand out to shake Ian's.

"Likewise," Ian replies with a wink as he shakes Michael's hand before ushering a speechless Elaina out of the office, closing the door behind him.

"Son?" She whispers disbelievingly to herself as she shakes her head uncomprehendingly. "How'd you do it?"

"What do you mean?" Ian laughs as he takes her hand in his and gives it a kiss. "Parents love me!"


	18. Chapter 18

**18**

 _*"He's showing us what he's capable of." -_ _Terry Lake_

" _Well, now it's our turn." -_ _Don Eppes_

 _Season 1, Episode 6: Sabotage*_

"You weren't kidding," Don remarks quietly, doing his best to keep the horrified tone from his voice as he pulls out the first aid kit that he'd swiped from the motel's lobby on his way to find Colby. "This is why I didn't want you getting involved with Drew in the first place," Don can't help but add as he rips open an antiseptic wipe and dabs it against Colby's bloody cheek.

"Save the lectures ok," Colby grunts from pain as Don does his best to gently remove some glass from the open wound on Colby's forehead. Colby had wanted to go after the package immediately, Amita had tracked the GPS and it currently wasn't moving, but Don had pointed out that if he didn't attempt to stitch the wound first then Colby would most likely pass out from blood loss before leaving the alleyway...if the concussion didn't get him first.

"Ok, I'm sorry...I'm just freaking out here ok? What if they had shot you? _I can't do this alone..."_ Don admits reluctantly making Colby feel terrible. That wasn't his intention... _honestly_!

"The main thing is that we know where the parcel is and we still have two hours to recover and deliver it. We _need_ this Don," Colby reminds him when Don fails to hide the look of doubt on his face. "We can't take down PR without it."

"I know," Don sighs tiredly. He did know, he was just scared and that was a lot for him to admit, even if it was just to himself. "Drink this," He adds as he holds up a bottle of scotch for Colby.

"I'm not drinking before we get that parcel back," Colby refuses the bottle as he angrily tries to push it away but misses and ends up slapping the air next to it instead.

"I'm about to sew your head back together and there isn't even so much as an aspirin in this kit, some druggie probably took those..." Don chides as he waves the bottle at Colby again. " _Trust me_ ; one shot isn't going to stop you from helping me get the package back. Besides, I'm driving. Now drink up!"

"Oh God my car," Colby groans angrily as he grabs the bottle and takes a long swig.

"We'll come back for it later, once we've delivered the parcel," Don attempts to reassure Colby, but it was clear he wasn't listening. "Now hold still," He adds in what he hopes is reassuring tones as he pokes the needle and thread through Colby's flesh making him cry out in pain.

"I forgot to ask," Colby grunts unhappily as Don tries to make quick work of his stitching. "You done this before?"

"Once...on an undercover mission...twenty years ago," Don confesses reluctantly as Colby takes several deep breaths that resembles a woman giving birth.

"Fucking hell Eppes," Colby moans ungratefully as Don ties off the thread, breaking it with his teeth as the kit was also missing scissors.

"You could be in a hospital right now," Don snaps unsympathetically as he tilts Colby's head to get a better look of his handy work. "You're lucky I know how to sew at all!"

"Yeah real lucky," Colby laughs but there is no humour in it as he stands up and bends over to check out Don's stitching in the side mirror. "It will do," He sighs unhappily as Don begins picking up the rubbish and packs away the first aid kit. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Don sighs tiredly as he heads over to his rental car and opens the trunk. "Suit up. We don't want to add a gunshot wound to your list of injuries."

"You need to borrow one?" Colby asks as he opens his own trunk and pulls out a bullet proof vest.

"No, I stashed mine in here when I faked my death," Don replies quietly as he grabs his vest and pulls it on over his black hoodie. _God he couldn't wait to wear his own clothes again!_

"Good thinking," Colby grins as he moves back around to the front cab of his car and grabs his gun, which was still on the dashboard behind the wheel where he had left it during the attack.

"Yeah..." Don replies sadly as, after thinking about it for a minute, he grabs the big FBI badge and rips it off the vest. He felt the pain of the action constrict his heart a little as he hears the ripping of Velcro as Colby follows suit. "We aren't the FBI tonight." Don feels the need to explain. "We do what we have to do to get the parcel back...understood?"

"Understood."

"Then let's go," Don orders as he jumps in the front of his car and waits for Colby to join him before turning on the ignition. "So where did Amita say that package is?"

"It's in a warehouse near the fashion district."

"Ok then," Don nods as he pulls on his seat belt. "Let's go kick the shit out of whoever did this to you."

*Meanwhile in Santa Barbara*

"Finally, I have you all to myself," Elaina smiles crookedly with anticipation as she helps pull off Ian's suit jacket before moving in front of him and loosens his tie suggestively. "Better?"

"I'd feel better if I had a drink and a couple of Vicodin," Ian replies gruffly, not in the mood to be nice.

"What's up?" She asks as she steps back to look him in the eyes, her own clouded with confusion.

"I had a conversation with your father," Ian replies hesitantly as he moves around the large double bed, which someone had tidied up since they had left that morning, and pulls the bedside table drawer open to grab his phone. He had a voicemail box full of missed messages, _probably all from Don..._ which only furthered his irritation.

"I know you did," Elaina replies sarcastically as she rests her bum on her makeup table and crosses her arms annoyed. "I was there remember?"

"About the _deal_ you want to make," Ian frowns at the phone, unable to meet her eyes.

"He had no right going behind my back!" Elaina replies angrily as she stands up and moves around the bed to stand behind Ian, pulling on his arm until he turned to face her. "I suppose he told you to refuse me!"

"On the contrary, he told me to let you," Ian laughs unamused as he yanks his arm away from her tight grip. "He told me he would give me anything I wanted so long as I screw over your brother and put you in charge."

"Oh," She replies surprised, her beautiful mouth forming a little 'o', she was clearly shocked by the news.

"Yeah," Ian sighs tiredly before collapsing onto the bed. He had a headache. On the one hand he had made a deal with her father to let her take over, on the other he wanted to take her away from this place and protect her from the horrors of the world and of the darkness that he could feel bubbling inside of him...

"But you don't want me to..." She nods understandingly, no anger or accusation in her tone or on her face as she slumps down on the bed next to him.

"No...I don't," Ian admits reluctantly, he didn't want it to sound harsh or like he had no confidence in her but he also didn't want to lie either. "But not because you aren't qualified," He rushes to explain. "You are a much better choice than Julio; your brother is an idiot..."

"You just don't want me getting hurt," She finishes the sentence for him. _How did she always manage to read his mind so well?_

"I made the deal with your dad. He gave me the information I wanted...so the job is yours..." He replies flatly, if not a little angrier than intended. But whether it was at her, her father or himself…Ian didn't know. He'd never felt so lost…so unsure…so…out of control…

"Oh," She whispers surprised again, her face clearly registering shock. "What information?"

"What?" Ian asks confused, he had expected her to be happy at least...or to accept, he hadn't expected her to ask about the deal. "What does it matter?"

 _"It matters."_

"Why?"

"Because you don't want me to take over, so I want to know what was worth enough to you that you would sell out."

 _"Sell out!"_ He splutters angrily. "You wanted this! It's why you sought me out. Well congrats you got what you wanted and you only had to sleep with me once!" Ian adds nastily as he pulls his gun out of the bedside table drawer and shoves it in the back of his pants.

"Bastardo," She hisses insulted as she stands up furiously and storms around the bed to the makeup table to grab her clutch. "It was never about _...I'm no puta!"_

"Elaina," Ian frowns annoyed as he stomps around the bed to get to the door before she could leave. "I wasn't calling you a _whore_ , just stating a fact. You sought me out, you wanted something and you got it."

"I didn't screw you to screw over my brother," She shouts impassioned and Ian felt like a heel for suggesting otherwise. "The way Julio described you...the things he said about you...last night was as spur of the moment for me as it was for you. Are you… _are you sorry it happened?"_

"No," Ian smiles crookedly as he lets his arms hang uselessly at his sides, all anger leaving his body... _God his hand and head were pounding!_ Now if only the pain could fuck off he'd be grand. "And if you must know I asked your father for a name in return for your job."

"Whose name?"

" _Miguel Thiago_."

"Ian no! He's a psychopath!"

"Some people consider me to be a psychopath," Ian frowns as she laughs and shakes her head vehemently.

"No Ian you _play_ the psychopath, but you aren't one. You wear it like armour, using it to get what you want. Miguel...Miguel really is a psychopath."

"What can you tell me about him?"

"That he has no allegiance to anyone or anything. He's a mercenary, an assassin, a thief...he doesn't care who he hurts, or who he steps over in the process...please Ian, forget you ever heard his name!" She looked so serious that Ian genuinely considered her request...for like a whole second anyway.

 _He killed Nick. Miguel didn't get to live._

"I can't do that," He replies quietly, so quietly she had to step closer to hear him.

" _Why?_ "

"Because he killed someone who mattered to me," Ian replies coldly, his eyes flashing with anger.

"Who was she?"

"He."

"I'm sorry?"

"He...him, it was a guy...a friend."

"Then let it go," She advises unhappily, knowing in her heart that he couldn't. _How did she know him so well?_ "Then...be careful..."

"Oh I will be anything but careful with him, but I will be cautious..." He promises her gently as he pats the bed next to him.

"Just don't die," She offers instead as she sits down next to him, snuggling into his solid chest as he immediately reaches for her and pulls her close. "I couldn't bear that."

"I'm not going anywhere," He promises as he rests his head on hers, enjoying the way her silky hair brushed his rough cheek. Neither one spoke after that. They both knew it was an empty promise but refused to think about it as they clung to each other ignoring their uncertain future for a while longer.

*Back in LA*

"Can you see it?" Colby asks Don from his position by the back door. They had arrived at the warehouse ten minutes earlier and spent the time since casing the joint. So far their search turned up four men, consistent with the amount that had attacked Colby. _Just who were they?_

"Yeah," Don replies quietly, his mouth a grim line as he rests his weight against the doorframe and peers inside.

"What's wrong?" Colby asks Don reading the frown of concern that was written all over his oldest friend and boss's lined face.

"Four men in a warehouse this size…no one properly guarding the package…it's too easy…"

"That's what they want you to think," Colby growls unintentionally as he takes one last look behind him before moving up behind Don.

"Take a look for yourself," Don steps back and gestures for Colby to take his place at the doorframe.

Don wasn't wrong. They weren't even guarding the package, not properly anyway. It was just sat there on a table next to them. It hadn't even been opened…

 _This couldn't be the team that had performed such a professional hit on him only hours before…could it?_

"I don't understand," Colby frowns, flicking a concerned gaze back at Don. "Maybe they think they got away cleanly…"

"No time to worry about it now," Don sighs unhappily. If only the parcel wasn't time sensitive. They could properly case the joint; know what they were walking into…

Colby nods as he takes his gun from its holster and pulls the ski mask down over his face. "Let's get this over with."

"Ok," Don agrees as he pulls his own ski mask down over his face and un-holsters his weapon. "You want to take the lead?"

"Sure," Colby grins menacingly as he takes a deep breath before running at a crouch into the large warehouse, taking cover behind crates and boxes as he leads the way towards the package.

About midway into the room the pair are forced to drop to their knees behind a stack of large boxes marked winter coats as one of the four men leaves their make shift camp, presumably to take a leak, and wanders towards their hiding spot.

"I've got him," Don replies quietly, his voice only just audible above his breath as he turns around, holstering his gun as he makes his way around to the other side of the large stack of boxes just as the man finishes moving past. Grabbing the man from behind, one arm around the man's throat, hand clamped firmly across the man's mouth, Don swiftly pulls the guard backwards into the shadow of the stacks.

The man attempted to struggle, his fingers clawing at Don's arms as his feet scuffed the granite floor, but was helpless in the face of Don's grip. He passed out within seconds and Don was soon back at Colby's side, both his and the other man's gun in hand.

Without saying anything, Colby nodded at the other side of the warehouse where the group were camped. There weren't many places left to hide, none that would keep them shielded whilst they made a b-line for the package anyway… "We need a distraction," Colby grumbles as quietly as his gruff voice would allow.

"If we tip over one of these stacks we can pick them off as they come over to investigate," Don suggests as he gently tests the sturdiness of the tower of boxes housing the winter coats. They wobbled slightly from his touch, but mostly held firm. It would take both of them to budge the load.

"It's risky…" Colby replies hesitantly as he too tests the solidity of the boxes, "What if all three come over to investigate?"

"Then you run for the package and I take them out," Don answers quietly as he holsters his own weapon and cocks the stolen pistol in preparation for what he needed to do, his mouth set in a grim line as resignation shone in his dark eyes.

"Don," Colby shakes his head as he places a hand on the gun, lowering it so that it pointed at the ground. "I know what you said in that alleyway…but we can't…you can't…we _are_ the FBI and we're better than them."

"What do you suggest then?"

"Same plan…we just hope to hell that one of them stays with the package…"

"Hope," Don echoes hollowly.

"Yes hope," Colby frowns as he holsters his gun and stands as high as he can without being seen once the boxes had fallen. "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Don sighs as he too gets up into a half stand half crouch position and places his hands against the taller boxes. He didn't put the gun away, however, as he didn't share his partners faith. In his experience if life could dick you over it generally did.

"Push," Colby orders and with both of them pushing it doesn't take too much effort to get the top boxes tumbling.

"What was that?" They hear one of the men call out as the three of them stand up in a rush, all of them grabbing their guns before making their way over to investigate.

"So much for hope," Colby grumbles as they hear the footsteps getting closer.

"Just worry about getting the package," Don hisses at Colby as he moves to the edge of the boxes and watches as the three men fan out to investigate the different isles between the stacks. "Leave them to me."

"Don no!" He tries to argue but it was futile.

Hesitating for a moment, lingering behind the winter coats for a second longer than he should, Colby watches as Don ignores him and slips away behind the boxes into a different stack of clothes.

 _Shit!_ He curses internally before setting his sights on the package and making a break for it.

*Back in Santa Barbara*

"Are you sure I can't convince you to stay?" Elaina whispers, her breath tickling his bare chest.

"You know I can't stay," Ian sighs sadly against her hair as his hand lazily traces the line of her shoulder and forearm. Whether she shivered at his touch or the thought of him facing Miguel alone, Ian didn't know but he hoped it was the former…because she had the same effect on him…

"I know, but a gal can try can't she?" She smiles weakly, making his heart speed up. He hated seeing her so miserable, her attempt to put on a brave face failing as he finally took the plunge to untangle their naked bodies.

"If it makes you feel better you were so close to changing my mind," Ian laughs, trying to lighten the mood. They were both so tense you would think he was headed to his execution not a harmless meeting with a known mercenary and assassin…

"That makes it worse!" She laughs lightly, unable to help the smile that his terrible joke brought to her lips.

"Sorry," He returns her smile before kissing her hungrily on the lips. "But I guess you'll just have to try harder next time," He winks as he stands up and reaches for his pants and crumpled shirt.

"Until next time then," She replies her voice laced with seductive promise as she looks up at him from under lowered lashes.

"Don't look at me like that!" He groans as he buttons up his shirt and tucks it in at the waist of his worn levies. "I don't want to meet Miguel with a hard on; he might get the wrong idea!"

"Ok," She smiles wickedly as she shifts her body posing it enticingly so that the sheets slip away leaving her body on show, an open invitation.

"You play dirty Ms Esteban," Ian returns her grin as he lays back down on top of her, pinning her naked body beneath his. "Don't move from this spot," He orders against the nape of her neck as his fingers roam along her body, stopping to tease her along their slow journey south. "I plan to make you pay later."

"Why Mr Egerton I bet you say that to all the girls!"

"Only the ones as special as you," He laughs as he gives her a parting kiss before getting up and walking out without so much as a goodbye. He knew it was rude, and she would probably make _him_ pay for it later but he just couldn't bring himself to say goodbye to her…what he would do when it was all over he didn't know…he couldn't go there…

"El Jefe?" His new shadow/bodyguard asks questioningly as he follows Ian to the garage. "Where would you like me to drive you?"

"Nowhere," Ian frowns still unsure how he would ever get used to being the boss, thankfully it wasn't forever! "I'm heading out alone."

"You don't have to…" The bodyguard that Ian had failed to remember the name of reminds him gently but Ian was in no mood to hang around and be delicate with the man's feelings.

"Yes, I do," He replies sternly as he gets in his jeep and drives off before the man can object again and makes sure he's a good ten minutes down the road before pulling out his mobile and dials Don's new number, which had been in message twenty five of fifty…

Ironically, Don doesn't pick up.

"Don," Ian grumbles into the phone after the tone, "I have a lead on who killed Nick. The name Miguel Thiago mean anything to you? He's a mercenary and assassin for the cartels. I'm on my way to meet him now...I know what you're thinking ok, but I can handle it…but in the unlikely scenario that I can't we're meeting at a shipping yard near the wharf. If you don't hear from me by eight…come find me…bye."

Hanging up the phone and throwing it onto the passenger seat, Ian concentrates on his driving, doing his best to ignore the niggling feeling in the pit of his stomach because for the first time in his life Ian was nervous, more nervous that he would ever have admitted to Elaina. Not because he actually though Miguel would somehow get the better of him. No. Ian was nervous because of what he knew he had to do to Miguel once he got there. He even had a shipping container all set up ready…

 _He killed Nick,_ his brain whispers conspiritably….encouragingly. The same thought had been running continuously through his brain ever since Michael had first uttered the name Miguel Thiago… _He killed Nick…he doesn't get to live._

Of course Don wouldn't be happy when he found out, but when was Don ever happy these days? Least Ian had phoned Don and warned him. It wasn't Ian's fault that Don hadn't picked up…

 _He doesn't get to live._

*Meanwhile In LA*

"Who's that?" Colby asks nervously from the front passenger seat of Don's rental car.

"Ian…"

"Answer it, I can wait."

"Its fine, he'll leave a message if it's important."

"He's been dodging your calls for a week or longer, it will be important."

"So is this…what happened back there…" Don whispers quietly unable to finish the sentence.

"You used the other guys gun…it will look like the one you knocked out took out his friends. No one will even know we were there." Colby replies flatly, unable to look at Don because that would mean taking in the blood splattered there. None of it was Don's of course. But that didn't make it any easier for Colby to look at. Don had shot them…

"They shot at me first," Don rationalises, too busy examining the blood on his shaking hands to realise that Colby was unable to meet his troubled gaze. "They shot first."

"I should probably take the package in now…" Colby whispers as he finally turns to face Don. There was a dark bruise already forming on Don's right cheekbone where one of the men had hit him with the butt of a pistol. "Phone Ian."

"Ok," Don nods as Colby opens the door and gets out of the car. He didn't know what to do with what had happened in the warehouse, or the feral look in Don's eyes as Colby had pulled his old friend off of the man that Don had still been beating, even past death. Nor did he know what to make of the other two men that he found shot and disarmed in the neighbouring stacks. All he did know was that he had half an hour to deliver the package and he didn't have time to hang around and make sense of how everything had suddenly gone to shit.

Flicking a mental switch Colby shuts it all down and blocks it all out because although it felt like a life time ago since Drew had given him the package, it had actually only been a few hours and Colby still had a job to do. Don could wait. The warehouse could wait. Drew's package couldn't.

Crossing the busy street Colby curses himself internally for not investigating the place he was meant to deliver the package to sooner. Perhaps if he hadn't been so busy trying to act normal he might have been smarter about the whole thing and this afternoon wouldn't have happened. If he had the penthouse he was now standing in front of also might have come as less of a surprise. _What was in the package? And just who was he delivering it to?_

"Name?" The security guard behind the lobby desk asks when Colby opens the front door and stops and stares open mouthed at the plush interior and the giant fish tank that occupied the whole of the back wall behind the reception desk.

"Agent Granger," Colby closes his mouth and shuffles forward, his cheap loafers squeaking on the spotlessly polished marble floor.

"Not your name, _the residents_ ," The guard asks patiently as Colby finishes his initial sweep of the room. The front exterior wall had been made of tinted glass, hiding the view of the inside from the street. Now he was inside he could see the bustling street clearly and the idea of being part of but separate from the world sent a shiver down his spine.

"I have a package from Drew, sorry AD Andrew Castle," Colby explains as he places the slightly battered package on top of the granite surface of the desk for the guard to see. He didn't tell me who it's for…"

"That's ok. Mr Castle is in his suite I will give him a call and ask him," The man smiles kindly as he gestures for Colby to take a seat on one of the velvet couches opposite a large fountain of two warring horses before picking up the phone and presumably phones Drew.

 _This is Drew's apartment building?_ Colby can't help but wonder as he continues to take in the large lobby's many opulent features. _Why had he made Colby deliver a package to himself? Had the whole thing been a test from the beginning? Had the warehouse?_

"Mr Castle will see you now," The guard disrupts Colby's jumbled thoughts as he gestures to an elevator in the corner of the room that Colby hadn't noticed earlier. Possibly because it looked like the black panelled wall had peeled itself back to reveal the hidden elevator. _Now that was fancy!_

"Thank you," Colby nods at the security guard as he passes the desk, grabbing the parcel on his way to the small lift. Once inside he was confused by the lack of buttons, but he needn't have been worried because the second he stepped inside the doors closed and the elevator started moving of its own accord. Colby wondered if the guard was operating it or if someone in the penthouse above was calling it up. Either way the claustrophobic journey was mercifully short. That or Colby was so on edge that he was no longer able to accurately record time…anything was possible at this stage.

"Colby," Drew greets him warmly as the back doors of the elevator slide open to reveal a large circular open plan room that could have fitted Colby's whole apartment in twice!

"You live here?" Colby replies amazed, forgetting himself as he moves around the room taking in the wealth and plush furnishings. Drew had the largest TV that Colby had ever seen outside of a cinema and a square sofa set that was like a small pit of soft cushions. All the walls were one big window with the most breath-taking views of LA and Colby had no words to describe the rest of the apartment.

He supposed you would call it minimalist in style…basically there was no clutter anywhere. If Colby didn't know better he would have believed that it was a show room because it didn't look like anyone _lived_ there. It definitely made his cluttered shit hole of an apartment pale in comparison and Colby was glad that he hadn't invited Drew in last night for a nightcap!

The apartment didn't stop at that one room either. At the centre of the room was a polished marble spiral staircase that presumably led to a bedroom and bathroom and Colby could only imagine the rich furnishings he would probably find up there. God, Colby didn't even want to think about what the rent on a top floor penthouse like this would cost! Probably triple his annual salary and that would be only for a month! It took all his will power and tact to stop himself from asking… _that would be rude and besides, somethings were better off being left a mystery._

"I only stay here when I'm in LA," Drew smiles knowingly as he takes Colby's elbow and turns him away from the single sweeping window to face him properly. "What happened to your face?"

"I was attacked," Colby shrugs as Drew takes Colby's face in his surprisingly smooth hands and takes a closer look.

"Do you know who?"

"They won't be a problem anymore," Colby whispers quietly, his voice and body trembling at the memory…

"Good," Drew smiles as he drops his hands from Colby's face and takes his hand instead. "Come; sit down before you fall down. We have a lot to discuss."

"I have your package."

"We'll get to that," Drew smiles dismissively as he leads Colby over to the small sofa pit and gestures for Colby to make himself comfortable as Drew busies himself pouring two scotches. "You probably have a lot of questions and in time I will answer them all. First though, I want you to tell me exactly what happened to your face and how you know that these men will no longer be a problem."

"They were waiting for me," Colby frowns as he remembers that the SUV had followed him out of the FBI car park. "They followed me when I left the office…I tried to lose them and they trapped me down an alley…that's when they stole the package."

"The package left your possession?" Drew asks sharply as Colby takes a long swig of his scotch. "How did you get it back?"

"I had a GPS tracker in the car. I put it in the package before they stole it and followed them to a warehouse in the Fashion District."

"You just happened to have a GPS tracker in your car…" Drew raises a surprised but admiring eyebrow as he takes in the way Colby's hands were shaking, making the ice in his glass rattle.

"No I used the one planted in my phone," Colby replies quietly as he steadies his hands before turning his cold glare on the AD. Drew could act like this was all news to him, but Colby finally saw the truth. He finally saw the crime lord beneath the charming facade.

"That was quick thinking of you," Drew smiles unapologetically, neither confirming nor denying that he'd had it placed there. "What did you do once you got to the warehouse?"

"They're dead, if that's what you're asking," Colby frowns annoyed as he drops the empty scotch glass onto the polished wooden table next to the couch.

"That's…unfortunate," Drew replies carefully, sensing the change in Colby's mood.

"What's in the package Drew? Hmmm?" Colby cuts across all the bullshit, in too much pain and too tired to care that he might be fucking up his only chance to get on the inside of PR. "What did I kill three men for?" He adds demandingly.

Drew surprisingly only smiles in reply as he stands up and retrieves the package from a glass desk where he had put it upon Colby's arrival and rips it open. "I'm a big fan of the Gilmore Girls," Drew smiles wickedly as he shows Colby the complete season one to seven boxset. "But you already guessed that the package was irrelevant didn't you," Drew grins impossibly. "The whole thing was a test. One you passed by the way. Killing three men to protect Rory and Lorelai for me, while excessive, shows me all I need to know."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Colby shouts annoyed as he rushes to his feet and pulls his gun, pointing it right at Drew's chest. "All that, for the fucking Gilmore Girls!"

"Now, now, Col. No need to get pissed. I told you, it was a test. You don't think I just let anyone into PR do you?"

"PR?" Colby feigns ignorance, but it was pointless as he had already tipped his hand earlier when he'd admitted to knowing about the tracker. Worse he could see that smug knowing look in Drew's eyes.

"Yes Col, PR. You're welcome by the way; your arsonist is behind bars now, just like you wanted."

"How?" Colby whispers hollowly. How had Drew done what Colby and Liz hadn't been able to.

"How does anyone in PR get anything done? I threatened to kill him into a confession," Drew laughs as Colby lowers his gun, his face thoughtful. "And if you tell me which warehouse I will see to it that your little mess is cleared up and dealt with discretely. You see Col? You are finally making the right friends."

"Is that what we are?" Colby laughs disbelievingly. He'd done it. He'd tricked Drew into trusting him. _Welcome to the inside._

"I hope so, just as soon as you pass your initiation test."

"I thought the package was my test?" Colby hisses confused, his blood freezing as Drew looks at him like a predator toying with its prey.

"That was just to find out whether I could trust you enough to approach you about PR. To get in you have to do something else for me first."

"What's that?"

"It's come to my attention that Agent Edgerton is not the dirty cop I thought he was. He's been playing us for months."

"Ian is PR?" Colby replies shocked, his acting surprisingly convincing.

"He was."

"What changed?"

"He failed his test."

"What was his test?"

"To kill Agent Don Eppes."

"Don! Wait…if Ian failed his test then…"

"Yes, Don is alive."

" _What do you want me to do?"_

"I want you to do what Ian couldn't. Kill Agent Eppes…I want you to kill his brother, kill his wife and kill his kids. I want you to make him wish that Agent Edgerton had killed him!"

"And Ian?"

"I already have someone tidying up that little mess," Drew smiles maliciously, his eyes glinting menacingly.

"How so?"

"He's on his way to a shipping yard in Santa Barbara. He plans to kill Miguel Thiago, the man I hired to take out Nick. But my men are already there waiting for him."

"They'll kill him?"

"After a little light torture. He's been faking the deaths of many of PR's enemies. I need to find out where they all are and then Lieutenant Gary Walker will kill him. Ian is Gary's test so forget about him and concentrate on finding Don. You have till the end of the week."

"That's not a lot of time to find him and take down his entire family…" Colby replies hesitantly as he hides his shaking hands in his pockets.

"Might I suggest you start with Charlie? Use his family as bait to draw him out."

"Yeah…of course…"

"Oh and Colby," Drew stops Colby who was busy stumbling his way around the square couch to the elevator. "Not that I don't trust you, but after Ian…well I can't have Don faking his own death again now can I?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm coming with you to personally watch as you drive a bullet into the heart of everyone he loves," Drew smiles his Cheshire Cat grin, it made Colby think of the Cheshire Cat because that grin stayed with him long after he and Drew made their way down in the lift to a private garage housed underground before heading to CalSci and an unsuspecting Charlie.


	19. Chapter 19

**19**

 _*"Emotions aren't rational Granger. Revenge is just an emotion." – Megan Reeves._

 _Season 2, Episode 6: Soft Target*_

*Hours Earlier*

Amita had missed this. She hated to admit it as it had been her own decision to leave...but Gods she really had, and annoyingly it was only now, sat in the small antechamber of the FBI Director's office that Amita realised just how truly bereft she had been these past few years. She missed the excitement of a new case and the rushing in her blood as she set about her work. Teaching at NYU was missing the same appeal...the same thrill...and her family...

"He won't be much longer," The secretary smiles politely, placing a mug of coffee down on the glass coffee table in front of Amita.

"Thank you," Amita returns the young woman's smile, she had already forgotten the secretary's name...something she would usually feel guilty about but Amita's thoughts were elsewhere, on more important matters than offending the FBI Director's personal assistant.

"Can I get you anything else?" The secretary asks pleasantly enough but Amita could tell that the woman was itching to get back to her desk that was outside in an even smaller antechamber than the one Amita currently found herself occupying.

"No, thank you," Amita replies dismissively. She didn't mean to sound rude, she just really wanted to be left alone to order her thought's before being called into the Director's office. She would only have one chance to talk to the man, pitch this meeting wrong and she wouldn't get a second chance.

 _No worries,_ she tries to convince herself and fails. _All of their lives depended on this interview but sure no worries!_

"Amita!" Liz shouts loudly as she barrels past the secretary and rushes to Amita's side. "I got your message!"

"Thank you for coming," Amita replies stiffly as she waits for the curious secretary to leave and close the door behind her before continuing. "I know you have questions and I will do my best to answer them, later." Amita adds more softly in case the secretary was listening in at the door. "All you need to know right now is that Colby and Ian are working together on an undercover case...and that Don is alive, but not for much longer if I can't convince the Director that a secret organisation called PR is operating inside the FBI."

"What the-" Liz starts to say but was soon cut off by the door to the Director's office opening, revealing the tall and foreboding figure of the Director. Amita couldn't help the involuntary shiver that crept down her spine as the Director's towering body seemed to block out the light with his presence.

What if they were wrong? What if Drew wasn't the top of the PR chain...what if the Director couldn't be trusted? Amita couldn't even let her self entertain the notion for longer than a second because if she was wrong about this…then all of their lives were forfeit, including Dylan's and Charlie's.

"Mrs Eppes, Agent Warner, to what can I attribute this off books meeting?"

Jeez the Director was a scary man, Amita frowns as she holds her hands in tight fists so that Liz and the Director wouldn't see them shaking. "We know who killed AD Callaghan." Amita replies quietly as her gaze locks with the Director's knowing one. Did she just make a huge mistake?

"We do?" Liz shakes her head confused as she looks from Amita to the Director and back again. "Just what the hell is going on?"

"What else do you know?" The Director challenges curiously, ignoring Liz and making Amita swallow hard with fear.

"We know everything and if you don't help me Agents Eppes and Edgerton are going to die this afternoon. Their covers are blown."

"How do you know this?" The Director asks thoughtfully, seemingly unsurprised by the revelation of Don's miraculous resurrection or Ian's undercover status.

"Because I was doing some digging and I uncovered a recording from Ian's cell to Don's, it must have been bugged at some stage..."

"No Amita," The Director cuts across her babbling by surprising her with his knowledge of her first name. "How do you know that they are in imminent danger?"

"Because I also found a recording of Drew instructing Lieutenant Gary Walker to go and murder Ian whilst Drew and Colby head to CalSci to try and draw Don out of hiding...sir Drew's going to kill them all unless we stop them..."

Ignoring Amit's impassioned plea, the Director moves past Amita and the speechless Liz to open the door to his secretary's small box of an office. "Michelle, cancel the rest of my appointments for the day and get Commander Cross on the line."

"What should I tell him this is about sir?"

"Tell him to suit up and get his men ready. Either of you ever been in a helicopter before?" The Director smiles, directing the question at Amita and Liz, who were still sat frozen on the soft reception room couch, both watching confused as the Director loosens his tie and grabs a leather flying coat from a coat rack that Amita had ignored in the corner of the room until now.

"Sir?" Amita and Liz ask questioningly at the same time. Amita knew she was nervous and worried about everyone but she had completely lost her place in the conversation. She hadn't even given the Director the _'speech'_ and he was springing into action...was this a trap?

"It's ok," The Director coaxes soothingly as he moves over to the startled Amita and places reassuring hands on both of her shoulders before whispering, "I know about PR, I know about Don and you just confirmed my suspicions about Drew...ok? I don't need to hear ' _the_ speech' and I don't need convincing. So why don't we go save your husband and his brother and any other agent that has gotten themselves involved in my investigation without asking first hmm?"

*Santa Barbra*

When you say the word ' _assassin'_ people's minds will usually dream up a tall dark brooding martial arts expert with a cold dispassionate view of the world. Miguel Thiago wasn't anything like that though. He was no Jason Bourne or Ezio Auditore. He wasn't even a suave dysfunctional James bond. The only word that sprang to mind as Ian looked down the long scope of his sniper rifle at Miguel was ' _ordinary'._ Miguel Thiago looked… _ordinary_. He could have been anyone, your neighbour, your gardener, a labourer, a doctor, a cop… That was an assassin's real skill. Not just being able to hold your own in a fight or to be able to shoot straight. It was their ability to hide in plain sight. He could have been anyone, his identity was liquid…fluid, forever changeable. He could blend in with a crowd or adapt to any situation or environment depending on the job. If you really thought about it, an assassin's real skill isn't that different from a sniper's. Invisibility, loose it and you're fucked, which is why Miguel currently had a rifle pointed at his ass and not Ian. _That's right I see you,_ Ian smiles his tight cat like smile. Every inch the hunter as he moves his finger to the trigger, taking a deep breath before pulling. The crack and whip of the rifle as the round goes flying and the rifles kick back as it caresses Ian's solid shoulder was almost blissful. God Ian had missed this. This is where he excelled. This is where his world made sense… Standing up and hooking the rifle over his shoulder, Ian goes to inspect his prey.

*CalSci*

"We're here," Colby tells Drew who was busy looking distractedly out of the window, his thoughts elsewhere.

"There are a lot of cars here for so late in the evening," Drew remarks quietly, unable to hide the note of surprise in his tone.

"CalSci offers some evening classes for the homeless and for young kids in the system...well for anyone who is down on their luck really and needs a hand getting their lives together. Charlie teaches maths obviously," Colby explains as he attempts to stall the homicidal maniac sat in the car next to him. "That building will be completely packed right now. There is no way to extract Charlie until after the lectures are over and he comes out. We could grab him when he goes for his car?"

"No...that is too risky, what if he leaves with someone? No, it's best to attend his lecture and get him to see us in his office after. We can blackmail him into phoning his brother then." Drew calculates out loud making Colby's heart sink and beat irregularly.

"But isn't that a little public?" Colby tries to reason with Drew who ignores him and starts climbing out of the car. "If we're going to kill Charlie we don't want witnesses placing us in his lecture hall and office before the murder." Colby tries again but Drew only shakes his head dismissively.

"You mean when we kill Charlie," Drew corrects Colby as he climbs out of the car.

"Fine, when we kill Charlie we don't want witnesses," Colby amends as he joins Drew on his side of the car before turning to evaluate CalSci, which was currently lit up like a Christmas tree. _So many witnesses_ , Colby thinks to himself as he ignores the pinching in his chest. There has to be a way of warning Charlie without Drew noticing...

"Stop worrying about it Col, right now we are just going to talk to Charlie, we'll wait till Don shows up so we can kill him in front of his brother. By then there won't be any witnesses."

"Of course," Colby whispers under his breath as he follows Drew across the packed car park, his heart doing overtime as his panicked brain was busy going over its options.

 _How to warn Charlie without Drew noticing? Or Don for that matter? If Drew wasn't going to kill Charlie till Don showed up maybe Colby could save Charlie by warning Don away?_

Even as Colby thought about it he knew warning Don would be the wrong course of action. Knowing Charlie was in danger Don would most likely storm the building and put Charlie in even more danger...no the only thing Colby could do is warn Charlie before it was too late. Or at least he hoped he could...Colby wasn't sure about a lot of things these days and unfortunately his and Charlie's fate at the end of tonight was just one of those things.

*8,000 Feet Above LA*

Though the Director was talking to her through the helicopter's internal intercom, his voice like a gentle caress through the headphones into her ear drums, Amita couldn't hear a word he said above the rushing in her ears and the erratic beating of her heart.

 _Would they be too late?_

The sun was currently setting; the sky a painting of reds and pinks and oranges, but Amita couldn't appreciate any of it. _Two years,_ that was all she could think. _I missed out on two years…_

"It's going to be ok," Liz's voice cuts across the Director's as she takes Amita's hand in hers and gives it a gentle squeeze. But Amita couldn't return the smile and Liz's hand felt like a dead weight in her own because _Liz didn't know_.

She hadn't seen the wall Don had constructed in his motel room. She didn't know how deep PR's corruption went or how far their influence stretched. Hell Liz hadn't even known about PR ten minutes ago and Amita knew that wasn't Liz's fault but it didn't stop the little bubble of resentment that was forming in her chest as she ignored the stunning landscape to stare daggers at the back of the Director's head.

 _He'd known,_ her brain whispers angrily, only just audible above the rotation of the helicopter's rotator blades. _He'd known about all of it_ , and Amita didn't know what she would do with that information if they got to CalSci to late…she just didn't know…

*Santa Barbara*

He wasn't dead, yet…

Grabbing Miguel by the feet Ian pulls the unconscious body across the gravel to the nearest shipping container, leaving a streak of red blood in their wake as using two sets of handcuffs Ian chains Miguel to the container's closed door. He didn't know what was inside the container or who it belonged to and he didn't care either. There would be no one around to witness what was going to happen next. He'd already seen to that.

"The docks are now closed, everyone has gone home," Ian tells the unconscious Miguel, a wild spark in his eyes as he crouches down in front of his prey as he pulls the Glock from the back of his trousers where he had tucked it earlier. "There's no one left to hear your screams." Smiling insanely, Ian slaps Miguel twice on the cheek before standing back up and shooting him in the thigh.

Miguel's scream was a lion's roar of pain as his eyes flicker open and his hands battle against the restraints.

"Ah good, you're awake," Ian flashes Miguel a feral grin as he crouches back down in front of Miguel, his elbows resting boldly on his knees, the smoking Glock limp in his relaxed hands. "We have a lot to talk about."

*CalSci*

Opening the door slowly, so as not to disturb the lecture going on below, Colby and Drew creep into the darkened room and take a seat at the back.

"Give me your phone," Drew orders Colby as they settle down into their seats.

"Why?" Colby asks surprised, his heart squeezing with panic. Without his phone how was he supposed to warn Charlie?

"Because we want to let Charlie know we're here," Drew explains with a predatory smile as Colby somehow manages to keep the sickened look of horror off his face as he hands his phone over. _How had he ever liked Drew? How had he been so blind?_

 _-Charlie, we need to talk. Meet me in your office after the lecture. Col._

"Do you put kisses?" Drew teases as he hits send and watches with a satisfied grin as they watch Charlie's eyes flick to the phone on the podium in front of him. To his credit Charlie manages to finish the lecture quickly and calmly. If he was concerned about Colby's message it didn't show and Colby admired that about the young mathematician.

Colby certainly wasn't feeling calm. His heart felt like it was in a blender. How he manged to keep his nerves off his face, particularly when Drew pockets his phone rather than hand it back and when Charlie makes a quick but friendly exit after the lecture, Colby didn't know.

Watching Charlie leave out of a door at the rear of the stage Colby's heart plummets. Charlie was on his way to his office and Colby had just run out of time.

*Undisclosed Military Base LA*

"Commander Cross," The Director greets the tall man in full cammo who runs to meet them at the door of the helicopter. "Is everything ready?"

"The men are gearing up as we speak sir," Commander Cross replies confidently, his mouth set in a grim line as he offers a hand to help Amita and Liz climb out of the helicopter.

"Good," The Director nods pleased at the Commander's reply as he gestures for the Commander to lead the way. "Then let's get on with Operation Second Coming."

"Second Coming! But Sir!" Cross shouts above the noise of the helicopter's rotor blades which were still spinning as they slowly wound their way down to a halt, "We still don't know who is fronting PR!"

"She does," The Director smiles tightly as he points a finger directly at Amita.

"Sir?" Cross asks confused as he turns his head to properly take in Amita and Liz for the first time since helping them off of the helicopter.

"Ms Eppes will explain all but first let's get inside, we don't have a lot of time…my sources told me that Drew's already at CalSci…" The Director adds quietly to Cross as the men turn away from her and start walking across the large field they had landed in towards some dated barracks. Amita knew she wasn't supposed to have heard him, but she had and her stomach dropped at the news. Dylan was at CalSci tonight…and now Drew was too… _we're too late!_

As Amita's heart slams itself against her rib cage, she lets Liz take hold of her elbow and steer her towards the barracks where the Director and Cross had now disappeared.

 _Dear God don't let us be too late!_ She sends up in silent prayer as the two women enter the barracks and join the fray of large men in full camouflage and tack, every one of them in full riot gear. She knew they would dress to be ready for any scenario but her confidence levels in whether this was a rescue mission or a recovery mission was plummeting with every pinched breath…

*Santa Barbara*

"YOU CRAZY FUCK!" Miguel shouts in English before letting out a string of Spanish curses as he fights passionately against the restraints on his wrists but Ian only laughs in reply. "You think this is funny you son of a bitch?"

"A little."

"You're dead puto, you hear me? You're a dead man!"

"Says the man chained to a shipping container in an empty dockyard," Ian smiles cruelly, no ounce of mercy or compassion in his eyes. "Besides," Ian adds as an afterthought as places a thumb into the wound on Miguel's thigh. "You won't be leaving here alive so I don't see how I'm the dead man."

"I've heard about you, you know," Miguel replies after a moment, when he'd finished screaming his agony over Ian's thumb ripping the hole in his leg wider. "San La Muerte…I somehow thought you'd be taller. A giant standing on the shoulder of Gods…you were my idol…but then they do always say: 'never meet your idols'. They'll only disappoint you."

"I'm not that man anymore," Ian spreads his arms wide in a 'what can you do' gesture as he stands up and looks bitterly down at Miguel. "The irony, if you can appreciate such stuff, is that the way you killed Nick really did impress me…displaying his body like that…the message you left when you put his gun and heart on the scales…propping him up on Lady Justice's sword…I thought to myself…this man is an artist. I personally would have used Nick's blood to make it look like Lady Justice was weeping bloody tears at her fallen soldier but really that's just a personal preference thing…"

"Your point?" Miguel winces as he angrily interrupts Ian's train of thought.

"My point is, I thought you would be something else…something more impressive too…but you're just a child playing at a grownups table. You're out of your league _boy._ And now you're going to pay for that mistake."

"What mistake?"

"You killed my friend." Something in Ian's flat and expressionless face or the death shining in Ian's eyes must have scared the boy because he immediately began struggling against his bonds as Ian grabs Miguel's injured leg and straightens it out. Miguel was in too much agony in that leg to put up more than a feeble resistance. "Now I'm going to make this as slow and painful as I possibly can. I'm going to make an art of your death…because whilst I might not be San La Muerte anymore, you've awoken a blood lust in me that can only be sated by your death. An eye for an eye and all that."

"No! Por favor! _Please!_ "

"It's too late for begging," Ian replies quietly as he places his steel toe caped army surplus boot over Miguel's ankle. "Take solace in the fact that I won't be taking any pleasure in our evening together either."

"Ian NO!" Don shouts as he rounds the corner of the shipping container, revulsion plastered all over his face as he takes in the bloody scene that wouldn't have been out of place in a horror movie. "Don't" He just about manages to get out making Ian pause, his foot hovering in mid-air above Miguel's ankle.

"If you don't have the stomach for what needs to be done, then leave," Ian warns Don, ignoring the increasing panic growing in Miguel as Ian's foot continues to hover threateningly over his vulnerable ankle.

"Por favor Amigo," Miguel shouts at Don to do more to stop the menace threatening his life, any previous ego melting away. He was not the hardened assassin he thought he was. He was just a kid who had gotten in way over his head. Nick had been as much of a test for him as Killing Don had been for Ian. Before that he was completely a small fry wannabe. Nick was the first high profile kill he had made. It had all been gang related murders before that.

"Shut up!" Both Don and Ian shouted together at Miguel as their eyes locked over the body strung up between them.

"He killed Nick," Ian tells Don as if that should be enough to make his friend understand. _Surely Don could understand the murderous rage rattling its way around Ian's chest,_ Nick had been _Don's_ best friend after all.

" _I know_ ," Don practically cries as his gun wavers in front of him before falling to Don's side. "You think I don't know? You think I don't want to put a bullet between his eyes as badly as you?" Don laughs hoarsely, but there is no humour in it. "I think about Nick every day. Everything I have done in the last six months, everything I have sacrificed! _But we can't."_

"Give me one good reason," Ian asks imploringly as he drops his foot back to the ground and looks disgustedly down at Miguel.

"How about I give you two," Don replies gently as he closes the gap between him and Ian. "Firstly, you aren't this man anymore."

"And secondly?" Ian whispers lost, the rage that had carried him to this moment suddenly deserting him, leaving his body drained and sagging with grief.

"And secondly," Don smiles sadly as he places a hand on his friends shoulder, "Nick wouldn't want this. He would want to see Miguel prosecuted for his crimes."

"It's your lucky day kid. I'd have killed you if he hadn't turned up," Ian tells Miguel as he fishes the keys to the cuffs from his pocket and hands them over to Don.

" _Thank you,"_ Don whispers as he watches Ian start to walk away before the weight of his grief pulls him to his knees.

"I'm sorry," Ian whispers as he sits back on his heels and looks up at the sky, his body wracked with grief.

"I'm sorry too son," Gary whispers sadly as the stocky Lieutenant slinks silently out of the shadows, his gun primed and ready to fire.

*CalSci*

"Colby! Drew?" What's going on?" Charlie asks accusingly as the pair make their way into Charlie's cluttered office. "Is there something wrong? Col…what is the meaning of this?"

"Don't worry professor," Drew replies in anything but comforting tones sending a chill down Colby's already tense back. "It's not you we're here for."

"Then why are you here?"

"I want you to call your brother," Drew smiles at Charlie making the young professor freeze.

"I don't know what you mean," Charlie replies coldly as his eye flick to Colby's clearly confused. "My brother is dead."

"No Charles," Drew smiles triumphantly. "Don is very much alive and thank you for confirming something else for me."

"What do you mean?" Charlie replies nervously as his hand slowly sinks below the desk, his body rigid.

"I wasn't sure if Colby was truly the loyal PR servant he pledged himself to be and you just confirmed he isn't."

"What?" Charlie and Colby ask together as both Drew and Charlie draw weapons on each other at the same time. In Colby's scrambled brain it looked like an old western Mexican standoff.

"When I mentioned Don being alive his eyes flicked nervously to yours Colby," Drew explains as a sharp pain stabs its way across Colby's chest and down his left arm. "Did you really think you could trick me? I've been playing this game far too long!"

"I…I…" Colby stammers as he grabs his left arm and stumbles back against the wall. He was in so much pain he could barely register the concern in Charlie's eyes as he falls to his knees in pain. Charlie was surprisingly holding firm to the gun he'd had concealed under his desk earlier and was still currently pointing at Drew's chest despite his rising panic.

"Lower your weapon Mr Eppes," Drew orders loudly as his moves his own gun to point at Colby. "Or I'll shoot Mr Granger where he kneels.

"Charlie shoot him," Colby just about manages to croak as he falls face first onto the solid wooden floor.

The last thing he remembers before passing out is a series of flashes. Drew's mocking face as Charlie drops the gun and races to Colby's side followed by a canister hitting the floor a meter from Colby's head and smoke, so much smoke suddenly filling the large room.


	20. Chapter 20

**20**

 _*"Feds don't like scandals" – Terry Lake_

 _Season 1, Episode 11: Sacrifice*_

*Hours Later*

FBI HEADQUARTERS: INTERVIEW ROOM 2

" _Please state your full name for the record."_

" _Donald Eppes."_

" _And in your own words, please describe the events of the last twenty for hours."_

" _Well I woke up at around eight and the sun was shining in that way that only the LA sunshine can, you know?"_

" _Keep it relevant Mr Eppes."_

" _Which bits are relevant? Perhaps you can be a little bit more specific. It's been a long fucking day."_

" _Take it from the part where you arrived at the dockyard."_

" _We've already gone over that. I have nothing more to add on the matter."_

" _Well now we are going to go over it again because I'm not satisfied with the lies you told me the first time."_

" _It's what happened."_

" _No, it's what you claimed happened. I will have the truth now Mr Eppes. You had just helped Agent Granger retrieve a package when…"_

" _When I got a voicemail from Ian-"_

" _-Agent Edgerton."_

" _Yes, Agent Edgerton, informing me that he had discovered the identity of the late Assistant Director Nick Callaghan's murderer."_

" _How did that make you feel?"_

" _Surprised…I never expected to know…the trail had gone so cold…"_

" _But you never stopped looking? Even after faking your own death?"_

" _No…of course I never stopped looking. I used my time to investigate PR but I had my suspicions that the two investigations were mutually exclusive and never gave up hope."_

" _Would you say that it was that_ hope _that coloured your view in regard to Miguel Thiago and what you and Agent Edgerton did in that Dockyard?"_

" _Am I on trial here Ted?"_

" _It's_ Agent Carter _and I want an answer. Did your suspicions into the possibility of PR colour your judgement_ or _the judgement of Agent Edgerton in that dockyard?"_

" _Suspicions? Possibility? Wake up! PR is real and when you finally give me my fucking phone call I can get you all the proof you need_ Ted."

" _You mean from the illegal investigation you have been conducting whilst pretending to be dead?"_

" _I want my phone call."_

" _Once you have answered the question. Did you and Agent Edgerton torture Miguel Thiago for the death of your best friend Nick Callaghan?"_

 _*Door clicks*_

" _Ted, that's enough. Get out."_

" _But Sir!"_

" _Did you just but Sir me?"_

" _I think he did, he definitely but sir'ed you."_

" _Shut up Eppes."_

" _Sir."_

" _Director I was just-"_

" _Following orders and leaving."_

" _Fine. Interview terminated ten fifteen pm. This isn't over Eppes."_

" _Bye Ted."_

" _Fucker."_

*Hours Earlier*

"Gary," Don states flatly as he watches the old Lieutenant slink out of the shadows of the container opposite Ian, his gun primed and ready to fire. "Long time no see. Apologies for not keeping in touch sooner."

"That's ok; I understand it's hard to keep in touch when you're dead." Gary shrugs off Don's flippant comment as he stops in front of the broken Ian who was still on his knees on the ground at Gary's feet, oblivious to the gun Gary still had trained on Ian's chest as he took in the gory scene before him. "You did this kid?" Gary asks, softly in a tone, which if Don wasn't very much mistaken, was akin to fatherly concern.

Ian was too broken to hear him, however, as tears continued to stream down his harsh weathered features. Gary's own eyes, filled with concern, shoot accusingly between Don and Miguel who was wisely keeping quiet…or he had passed out again from his injuries…before settling back on the unresponsive Ian. Don's own gaze never shifted to Miguel's, he was too busy keeping his eyes on Gary's gun to check on the state of Ian's prisoner.

"Why are you here Gary?" Don finally asks the big question causing Gary to turn the full weight of his attention away from letthe grief wracked Ian and back to Don.

"Drew ordered me to kill Ian," Gary replies honestly causing Don's heart to freeze at the same moment his FBI training kicks in and with lightning fast reflexes he draws his Glock on the old Lieutenant.

"Let him," Ian whispers hoarsely, the first thing he had said since admitting that he would have killed Miguel had Don not showed up and stopped him. In that moment Don felt his heart shatter for his old friend who was clearly struggling with his actions, old and recent.

"I'm not going to kill you, you prick," Gary flinches at the raw emotion and glimmer of hope in Ian's rough words. "Drew ordered me to kill you, but it was the Director who sent me here."

"The Director?" Ian whispers confused as Gary holsters his gun and drops to his knees in front of Ian, his calloused wrinkled hands on Ian's shoulders in a death grip as he gives Ian a rough shake.

"You aren't PR are you," Don whispers amazed as he watches Gary attempt to shake some sense back into Ian.

"No I'm not," Gary confirms, his eyes meeting Don's over Ian's head.

"What do you mean?" Ian asks confused as he struggles out of Gary's grasp and stands up, backing slowly away until he was by Don's side leaving Gary kneeling in the mud.

"He means that he's undercover too."

"Undercover…" Ian repeats quietly as if chewing on the word unsure of its meaning.

"How long has the Director been investigating PR?" Don asks accusingly and to his credit Gary looks ashamed as he contemplates how much to tell them.

"For the past year."

"A whole year!" Ian swears colourfully as he rakes a shaking hand through his black hair. "Nick was part of it too wasn't he?"

"Yes."

"Explain. Now." Don replies angrily, flint in his tone and gaze as he and Ian stare furiously down at the now sheepish Lieutenant sagging under the weight of his lies on the hard ground as the sun dips below the horizon taking any lingering warmth with it.

"A year ago Rob Sacco came to me. PR had a mess to clean up and for some reason I have a reputation for being dirty. He wanted me to help clear up the little mess and offered me a seat at the table as reward." Gary explains quietly his solemn gaze trained on the ground by their feet. "I may be a tough bastard and old school in my approach but I am not nor have I ever been dirty!" Gary meets their weary gaze as he says the last bit pointedly. An old rage burning behind his eyes as he considers how to continue his story. "So I made some enquiries. That's when I first heard of PR and the benefits they offer. What Sacco likes to call 'the retirement plan'. Not knowing who to trust I took it to the one person I knew could never possibly be involved."

"The Director of the FBI."

"He was shocked, but he listened and when I was finished he called in Nick, asked me to retell my findings and together we hatched a plan. I was to accept Sacco's offer and go undercover in PR."

"But they keep everything compartmentalised," Ian finished for Gary when it seemed he wouldn't continue. "You never even got close to finding out who was in control."

"No, which is when Nick offered to try and go undercover. He called himself a big fish. Said that it would be too tempting for PR to pass him over. Think about it…the Assistant Director of the FBI working for you…there was no way PR could resist."

"But they had him murdered," Don whispers angrily, his eyes shining with grief.

"Turns out Drew had ambitions of his own, why bother controlling the AD when you can be the AD," Gary nods sadly as Ian's comforting hand reaches out and gives Don's shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Nick never told the Director or me about the file. The first I heard about it was when Ian approached PR. I have to admit you had me going son," Gary smiles ruefully. "It really pained me that you were dirty, I've enjoyed working with you these last six months."

"The feeling was mutual," Ian laughs ruefully but it didn't quite reach his eyes which seemed busy reliving the past six months as if trying to see how he had missed Gary's own cover.

"What about me? When did you realise that Ian and I had faked my own death?" Don asks confused as he too tried to piece in the missing gaps of the last six months.

"When I followed Ian back to your hotel room," Gary shrugs. "I told the Director you were alive and his smile," Gary shakes his head ruefully as Ian moves over to his old friend and helps him up out of the mud. "We were both relieved to know that Ian here was still on our side and that you were really alive. That's when the Director decided to let you both take over the investigation. You achieved more in the last six months than Nick and I made in the six before them."

"What I don't get is how Drew found out about Ian," Don replies confused as he remembers what Gary had said about being sent there to kill Ian.

"He bugged your phone kid. I don't know what happened in that Cartel house but you let your guard down and Drew had you bugged. He heard your call to Don about Miguel and sent me here to stop you and kill you."

"I got distracted…" Ian replies embarrassed as he coughs and looks away, shame burning in his eyes as a blush stains his neck bright pink.

"Wait," Don frowns, ignoring the awkward tension now embracing the three of them. "If he heard Ian's call to me then he knows I'm alive."

"Yes…"

"What aren't you telling me?"

"He and Colby went to CalSci this afternoon to kill Charlie and draw you out."

"Is he…" Don couldn't bear to say the words as Gary's eyes crackled and sparkled with compassion and unspoken concern.

"I don't know Don. I'm sorry. I was sent here to stop Ian from killing Miguel. I've had no updates on Charlie but the Director and a branch of special forces under the command of Commander Cross are headed there now to save Colby and your brother."

"I need to phone him," Don says with shaking hands as he fishes out his mobile and punches in Charlie's number but the phone goes straight to voice mail. "FUCK!" He shouts angrily as he starts pacing around the small clearing of containers.

"Look," Gary replies sympathetically as he moves over to the out cold Miguel and feels for a pulse. "I know you are worried but the Director is on it. He will take care of your brother. For now we need to get Miguel here to a hospital and call this in…and while we wait we need to get our stories straight."

"What do you mean?" Ian asks confused as he takes in the horror around them, his earlier shame previously forgotten now clouding his hooded gaze once more. "I will take full responsibility for my actions."

"And end up in jail, no Ian," Don shakes his head as Gary pulls out his own phone and calls in an ambulance. Once done he turns back to Ian. "Don's right. Listen carefully, because this is how we're going to sell this…"

*Present*

FBI HEADQUARTERS: INTERVIEW ROOM 1

" _So you're saying that you issued a warning to Mr Thiago to put down his gun and surrender to you?"_

" _Yes."_

" _Mr Edgerton-"_

" _-Agent."_

" _What?"_

" _Agent Edgerton. I haven't been stripped of my badge yet."_

" _Fine,_ Agent _Edgerton, you seriously want me to believe this shootout story of yours?"_

" _I don't care what you believe."_

" _You don't seem to care a lot about much do you Agent?"_

" _Is that supposed to scare me?"_

" _I don't know…are you scared Agent Edgerton?"_

" _No."_

" _Why did you shoot Mr Thiago twice? Surely once was enough."_

" _I didn't shoot him twice. I shot him in the shoulder with my sniper rifle. SAIC Eppes shot Mr Thiago in the leg."_

" _Did he not trust you to make the shot?"_

" _The suspect was fleeing whilst laying down fire to keep us back. It was an in the moment thing. We both saw the opening and took it. Neither was a shot to kill, only to prevent him from getting away."_

" _And the bruises and cuts on his wrists?"_

" _He didn't take well to being handcuffed while waiting for an ambulance."_

" _According to the EMTs Mr Thiago lost a lot of blood. Why did you wait to call the ambulance?"_

" _We didn't it was just hard to get a signal on our phones."_

" _Really? You expect me to believe that?"_

" _I already told you, I don't care what you believe."_

" _You also told me you aren't scared."_

" _Because you are probably the least threatening Agent I've ever met Teddy."_

" _That's Agent Carter to you!"_

" _Whatever, I'm bored. Tell me when you find a grown up to come and ask the questions. We're done here."_

" _Fine! Interview terminated eleven thirty pm."_

" _Bye Teddy."_

" _Dick."_

*Hours Earlier*

"They tell me I'm alive because of you."

"It was nothing," Amita shrugs sheepishly as she looks up at Charlie through lowered lashes. "I thought…" Words fail her as a sob reaches up and chokes the words away.

"Shhhh, it's ok, I'm right here," Grabbing her hands and placing them against his solid chest, Charlie breaths in the scent of her. "I'm alive, we both are."

"I was so worried we'd be too late."

"You weren't, you timed it all perfectly."

"Not entirely, Col…"

"He had a heart attack, apparently it had been brewing for days you couldn't have stopped it even if you had gotten there before Drew ambushed me."

"Has there been any word about the surgery?"

"No, but it's a double bypass, there's no quick fix…he has the best surgeon…the Director saw to that. All we can do now is wait."

"What about Drew? Any news on his surgery?"

"He'll live," Charlie frowns bitterly at the memory. "Unfortunately."

"What happened in your office Charlie?"

"I stupidly gave away that Colby was undercover and Drew pointed a gun at us…but I had one hidden under my desk and pointed it right back at him…"

"You were really brave," Amita gives Charlie a little smile that also told him that she thought him insane, _you could have died!_ It seemed to scream.

"I didn't feel brave," Charlie whispers sadly as he continues before he can think better of it. "Drew pointed his gun at Colby so I lowered the gun and threw myself at Col…to shield him or to take the bullet for him…I don't honestly know what I was thinking. Then the room was suddenly filled with tear gas. I saw Drew trying to protect his eyes and that's when I shot him," Charlie shrugs to try and mask the shaking he could still feel in his numb limbs.

"He deserved it," Amita replies vehemently as she takes Charlies pale hand in hers and raises it to her soft lips. "I'm almost sorry you didn't kill him…but I'm glad you won't have that weighing on your conscience."

"I wanted to…I aimed to…but with all the tear gas…"

"Just be glad it's over now."

"Is it?" Charlie shakes his head unsure. "I hear they have Don down at the FBI…"

"Yes," Amita nods her confirmation. "Robin called. She handed over all the files that Don and you guys have been collecting and together with the Director and Commander Cross's team they've spent the last five hours rounding up known PR members."

"I heard they were interrogating him," Charlie replies a little accusingly and instantly regrets it when he sees the hurt flash in her beautiful dark eyes. "I'm sorry I know it's not your fault."

"No but you are right…I was waiting to tell you…but I should have just come out with it a few hours ago…"

"What happened? Why are they interrogating him?"

"Because they found Nick's murderer and both Don and Ian admitted to shooting him."

"In self-defence," Charlie says but sees the doubt in Amita's eyes and feels his heart sink into his gut. Don was really upset about Nick but he would never…could never… _but Ian might…_ Charlie's traitorous mind suggests before he can lock it down.

"They are just following procedure, of course it was in self-defence," Amita smiles warmly as she reaches a hand up and smooths a curl out of Charlie's troubled eyes. "Everything is going to be fine," She whispers as she leans in, her lips resting gently against his as she whispers, "It's over," Before kissing him thoroughly, hungrily.

"I love you," He whispers back when they finally part and pulls her against him till her head is snuggled into the crook of his neck. "I know you are moving back to LA," He whispers after a while, when the silence finally becomes too much for him.

"Yes."

"I want you to move back in with me and Dylan."

"Really?" Amita asks hesitantly as the finger that he was currently winding through her hair stills.

"Yes really. Amita I love you. I never stopped. I'm sorry I drove you away and I'm sorry that I disappointed you again when you finally came home but I want this. I want our family, I want you."

"I want you too."

"So that's a yes?" Charlie asks happily as she pulls back enough that he can see her smiling face.

"Of course it's a yes. I love you too Charlie and I promise to never run away from you again."

"Mr Eppes?"

"Doctor," Charlie replies quietly, the sudden joy he'd been feeling at having Amita in his arms again replaced with sudden dread as he faced Colby's heart surgeon. "How is he?"

"The surgery was a success, we are moving him to recovery if you want to visit him?"

"Please!" Both Amita and Charlie reply together as they both let out the collective breath they had been holding moments before. Colby was ok. He was going to live.

 _Thank God._

*Present*

FBI HEADQUARTERS: INTERVIEW ROOM 2

" _I see Robin has given you the files."_

" _They make for some interesting reading."_

" _Any surprises?"_

" _I had to make a couple changes to my team but mostly they confirmed what Gary and Nick had already collected for me."_

" _So it is done?"_

" _Yes, we finished rounding everyone up from both of our investigations about an hour ago and are currently, with the help of your wife and her staff, using people to flip on those higher up and for any we might have missed. But it's over. PR is no more. Drew's reign is over, he can't hurt anyone anymore."_

" _Thank you for saving Charlie."_

" _Thank your sister in law when you see her. She is the one who got us there on time."_

" _And the one who got Gary there on time."_

" _The little matter of the dockyard is closed. I suggest you never speak of it again, to anyone."_

" _Thank you."_

" _What you and Ian did this summer…it is the FBI that should be thanking you."_

" _All I want is to go home and see my family."_

" _You will, there are just a couple of things we need to talk about first."_

" _Like what?"_

" _Like whom my next Assistant Director will be."_

" _Sir…"_

" _Yes Don, I want you. What you did for the Bureau, the sacrifice you made…"_

" _Made me realise that I can't do it anymore."_

" _What?"_

" _I'm done Sir. I quit."_

" _Eppes."_

" _No, hear me out. I just spent six months letting my family believe I was dead. I miss them…I missed them before Nick died…so many times I chose the job over them. I can't do it anymore. I want to see my son's baseball games. I want to teach Marc to shoot a gun and get him ready to join the FBI after college, I want to take my daughter to the park…I'm done."_

" _You know it's funny…"_

" _What?"_

" _Edgerton said the same thing when I offered him a preeminent job running his own team out of our LA office."_

" _He's been through a lot."_

" _Lost a part of himself to the investigation…I get it Eppes, I really do. I'm just gutted to be losing two really good agents."_

" _If it helps I don't think it was an easy decision for either of us."_

" _But a necessary one. I understand, truly I do."_

" _And might I be so bold as to suggest someone else for the position?"_

" _I'm all ears."_

" _When he's recovered, Agent Granger, Colby would make a fantastic Assistant Director. You know he also gave a lot to the investigation."_

" _I will take it under advisement."_

" _Sir?"_

" _Yes Don?"_

" _There is one thing I'm curious about."_

" _What's that?"_

" _Why did Nick leave the file to me?"_

" _Because he knew you would follow the investigation where ever it needed to go."_

" _But why not just read me in to begin with."_

" _Because I told him not to."_

" _I wish you hadn't done that Sir."_

" _Me too Eppes, me too."_

" _You know I would have told him that they never would have believed him as dirty…"_

" _I honestly don't think it would have mattered."_

" _Why?"_

" _Because Drew wanted the job and Nick was in his way."_

" _Sir?"_

" _Yes Don."_

" _Can I go home?"_

" _Yes Don. You're free to go."_

" _Thank you sir."_

 _*Chair scraping*_

" _Oh and Eppes."_

" _Sir?"_

" _Try not to hit Agent Carter on your way out. One black eye is probably enough for one night eh?"_

" _Ian?"_

" _Ian."_

" _Goodnight Sir."_

" _Goodnight SAIC Eppes."_

 **Epilogue**

 _*"_ _Oh, come on, no. The house is fine – it's old, but it works … you know, mostly … I mean, it's a lot like me." – Alan Eppes_

 _Season 4, Episode 11: Breaking Point*_

*Six Months Later*

Closing his eyes and tipping his face into the soft breeze, Ian Egerton enjoyed the way the wind playfully caressed his sweat soaked torso, flapping teasingly against his open plaid shirt. Relaxed, rested, rejuvenated, that was how he felt. This was the life, this was his life and he was happy.

Looking out across the acres of land that he had purchased upon quitting the FBI, Ian grinned wildly and without abandon. He had a home. It was his and he was its. He didn't know how to explain it…he just knew this was where he was supposed to be.

Ok so on the outside it looked a little…rustic…but he would fix that…and the hole in the roof. Project, that was the word Charlie had used when he had come to visit, the old ranch was a project and Ian couldn't wait to get properly sunk in. He had big plans. He was going to completely renovate the old farmhouse, rebuild the barn and attach a stable. Horses, cattle, chickens, and dogs he was going to have it all. A working, running, cattle producing ranch. Call him a sadist, but all the hard work sounded like fun and he couldn't wait to get started because he knew he could make a success of the place. There was no doubt, he would make a success of it.

"Expecting company?" Gary asks curiously from his seat on an old rocking chair on the front porch.

"No," Ian frowns at the cloud of dust that a bright red Lamborghini was currently spitting up as it tore its way down the long tree lined dirt path to the old ranch house where Gary and Ian waited. "Are you?"

"I don't know people with fancy cars like that," Gary laughs gruffly as he takes a long swig of his whisky making Ian laugh. Gary had become like a surrogate father to Ian and he was glad he had chosen to stay in LA. Originally he had been looking at a ranch in Texas but all of his friends were here in LA. In fact it was the happiness in the old man's face when Ian had revealed that he had bought the old ranch up in Orange County that Ian knew he had made the right choice. Family. He had family.

"Well neither do I," Ian shrugged as he took a long pull from his beer and waited patiently for the car to reach them. He almost choked on the beer when he saw who was inside. "How?" He asks bewildered as he turns to Gary who was eying him curiously.

"I never left Santa Barbra."

"You were spying on me the whole time?"

"I saw enough."

"But they rounded everyone up…"

"They did."

"Then how?"

"I told the Director she wasn't involved."

"And he believed you?"

"Hell no," Gary snorted as Ian ignored the sound of the car door opening and closing. "But I convinced him that you deserved a reward for your time spent helping to de-corrupt the FBI."

"And he accepted, just like that?"

"The FBI doesn't like a scandal kid. Why do you think the world is oblivious to PR? Why the only news reported that month was their win in shutting down a major drug cartel in Santa Barbra?"

"You old goat."

"Just say thank you and go greet your young lady before she thinks twice and leaves."

"Thank you." Turning around Ian almost loses his heart right out of his chest as he takes in the beautiful woman currently standing hesitantly at the end of his long dusty driveway. Leaping over the wooden porch, Ian lands gracefully on his cowboy booted feet and starts the long tantalising walk towards Elaina.

"This place is a shit hole," She shouts as soon as he's in range to hear her beautifully Hispanic lilted voice, a small smile twitching on her full lips. She was nervous. He could tell in the way her hands tensed against her toned thighs that were currently bare as she was wearing the shortest hot pants he had ever seen. He wondered if they were so short that if she turned around he might get a glimpse of her bum poking out the bottom, but she didn't turn around and he didn't answer her remark about the house. In fact he didn't say anything until he was standing in front of her, their bodies separated by inches of electrically charged air.

"It's my shit hole," He drawls as he gives her a predatory cat like grin as his eyes rake their way down her curved and soft body, from her plump lips to her pushed up breasts to her bare navel. She was wearing a crop top that was barely decent and he wondered if she had chosen it specifically for the reaction that it was having pushing at the buttoned up fly of his jeans.

"It doesn't even have a beach," She pouts but he could see the humour shining in her eyes enough to know that she was just playing with him. There was something else there too though. Doubt. He could almost feel the fear of it on her. Her shoulders were squared but tense. Her body was rigid with anticipation. Yes she was afraid of him turning her away. He'd been undercover at the time and now she was questioning if what had gone on between them had been real. He could see it in her eyes, the tightening at the corners of her mouth…a mouth he wanted to spend the rest of his life kissing and listening too…

"The beach is over rated," Ian replies hoarsely as his heart suddenly starts beating too fast in his chest. He had been happy, content even only minutes before because he was finally settled down. He had a home and a family to go with it but he had known, even then in the back of his mind that it was still missing something.

It was missing her. The beautiful, daring woman that had looked at the heart of the monster and smiled. She hadn't flinched, turned away or judged him for any of it. She was the woman who had brought him beer and a bag of peas and made him forget that he was undercover. He had screwed up and let them bug his phone because he had been consumed by her in a way he had never been consumed by any other woman. God he wanted her in way that he had never thought he could ever want someone.

"Ian…say something…"

But say what? He didn't have the words. He didn't know how to tell her that the second he had seen her in the car his heart had leapt with joy. That the thought that she might get back in that car and drive away forever filled him with more fear than when he had been shooting people in Afghanistan. He was a man of action not words, which is why instead of answering her plea to say something Ian reaches for her instead. Kissing her, gently at first and then more intently as her body seemed to melt into his.

How long they stood there just holding each other Ian didn't know but he did know he had never been happier or more grateful to the old goat on the porch. "Come," He smiles against her lips. "Let me show you around my shit hole."

"Ian! I'm not that kind of woman, perhaps you should show me around the house first."

"Oh I will," Ian shoots her a sly grin as he takes her hand in his and locks their fingers together. "And once Gary buggers off I'm going to enjoy making love to you in every single room." He whispers seductively against the soft skin at the base of her neck, enjoying the way her body shivers in excited response to his words across her bare flesh and Ian couldn't remember a time that he had been happier or his soul had felt lighter.

*LA *

Walking down the steep concrete steps, Robin juggles the tray of drinks and food as the crowd around her erupts into a voluminous mass of chanting and cheering, no one louder than her own son, daughter and husband. Smiling warmly Robin watches them for a moment and feels her heart constrict with love and a kind of joy that she hadn't thought possible to ever feel again only weeks before. Then Don turns, his gaze catching hers and his smile makes her heart constrict again. "Go Bobcats GO!" He, Marc and Gracie shout in support of Brandon who was currently rounding third base before finishing in a home run.

"YAY BRANDON!" Gracie screams as the crowd goes wild, nearly tipping the trays out of Robin's hands as she scoots along the benches of people to where her family were waiting for her. "Did you see mommy?" Did you see?" Gracie asks her excitedly as Don stands up, taking one tray from her as his free arm snakes it's way around her waist and he plants a noisy kiss on her painted face.

"Yeah mom," Don shoots her a smug dad look as they settle down into their seats once more. "Did you see our boy! He's going to be a pro!"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Robin reminds Don, ever the pragmatist.

"Dad's right mum," Marc pipes up from here he had been busy using his foam finger to flip off the other team. "Brandon has three college scouts here to see him play. Few more swings like that and Bran will be able to write his own ticket to any college in the country."

"Maybe he will follow you to Princeton," Robin replies proudly at her eldest son who was currently on spring break.

"Nah," Gracie replies for her brother and dismissing her mother as she snuggles in next to her dad to watch the next batter step up to the plate. "He's going to Vanderbilt University and is going to be the best pro baller in the MLB."

"Yeah he is!" Don agrees enthusiastically as he smiles over his daughter's head at Robin sending shivers of happiness down her spine.

"Ok well no pressure then," She grins wickedly as she sets the food tray down on the floor between them and pulls on her own foam finger that matched the face paint Gracie had scribbled over her and Don's face that morning and joined in with the cheers of the crowd. "Go Bobcats Go!"

"Go Bobcats Go!" Don joins in until they had all picked up the chant.


End file.
